


coeur de pirate

by louizsv



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, M/M, Pirates, Polyamory, This is just Smut (Pirate Version), Threesome - M/M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louizsv/pseuds/louizsv
Summary: He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson/Original Male Character(s), Louis Tomlinson/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 160
Collections: Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2020





	coeur de pirate

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are again!!!  
> The prompt was Prompt 466: Pirates of the Caribbean AU with Louis as Elizabeth Swan and OMC as Will. Technicallyyyyy it works, but also it's nothing like PoTC so please just get rid of all preconceptions. Enjoy.
> 
> Also, please read the tags and heed the warnings! There are graphic descriptions of violence in this fic.

Turning up his cheek to the warm sun, Louis lets a smile draw the corners of his lips up. The sounds of the crew sparring and working behind him rattles around in his head but the soft whooshing of the waves and the wind dancing in the sails immediately soothes the ache. Metal clangs and scrapes against metal as swords meet and men jeer and call out encouragement. Louis spins on his heel, turning his back to the sea to face the deck and resting his weight on the balustrade.

His smile melts into a pleased smirk when he sees the two men currently engaged in battle in the middle of the deck. Their feet move in sync, one back and one forward in an intricate and practiced dance. Their movements are graceful and fluid, one thrust of the sword easily moving into a parry or a guard. The men who aren’t on duty surround them in a crude attempt at a semi-circle, shoulders shoving against each other to get a better view. Louis, who had moved away from the action to gaze out at the horizon, has a perfect view of the fight.

The captain of the ship lunges forward, the blade of his curved sword gliding across the hardened steel of his opponent’s rapier. The sound grates against Louis’ ears and he tilts his head to the side to press one ear against his shoulder to muffle it. The captain’s head twitches in his direction at the movement and Louis catches his eye for a second before he turns his attention back to the sword suddenly coming toward his left flank. Just enough time for Louis to catch the sly wink he’d sent him.

Fighting back a blush, Louis switches his attention to the other man in the ring. Unlike the captain, the man is covered in a light sheen of sweat. His muscled chest heaves with each breath and his steps are careful and thought-out, as opposed to the instinctual and spontaneous steps. Nevertheless, they move as though locked in a familiar routine. Each step is mirrored and able. The sight of his best friend sparring against the captain still makes his heart race with fear and adrenaline. Louis thinks it always will.

He remembers back when they’d first boarded the ship, the way Micheal was constantly challenging the captain’s authority and pushing the boundaries. Louis thinks back to the first time they’d sparred on the deck. Between small, informal matches between crewmates, the captain had walked up and tossed Michael a rapier, telling him to get up and “solve his issues like a pirate.” Louis, who was sitting with Michael then, pushed himself up and tried to stop them, scared of what the outcome could bring.

He remembers the captain, hands large and calloused, reaching up to remove Louis’ smaller and unblemished hands from his arm. The heat of his sun-warmed skin melted into Louis’s perpetually cold hands.

“Step away, princess,” he muttered into Louis’ ear, his voice deep and slightly accented. He then pushed him away, into the crowd of pirates watching them and made him watch as they sparred for the first time.

Michael was unprepared and unused to the pirate captain’s dirty tactics. He stumbled and fell at each advance, hesitated when he had a chance to strike, and retreated at every opportunity. Having had only the experience of testing blades and weapons as the town blacksmith’s apprentice, he was practiced but not a natural swordsman. Not like the captain.

That was about six months ago now.

Six months they’ve been on the ship. Six months since the pirates had invaded their small island, killing the villagers and raiding the shops and houses in the town before moving up toward the respectable castle on the top of the mountain. Six months since the captain himself had killed Louis’ father in front of him, grabbed Louis around the waist, easily thrown him over a broad shoulder, and stolen him away.

A lot can change in six months, Louis has learned.

Watching the two men sparring in the middle of the ship, it’s never been so obvious. They grin viciously at each other and swing their weapons without mercy. Michael moves with a grace that comes easily after six months of daily practice. The captain doesn’t hold back, putting his entire body into each thrust and spin. They attract a crowd every time they fight. Louis thinks they both secretly enjoy the attention.

The crew makes a joined sympathetic sound when the captain manages to swing far and nick Michael in the side, sending him to one knee. They jeer and crow when he lashes out and tries to trip the captain with the blade of his sword. Louis watches them quietly from his secluded spot, a fingernail caught between his teeth. Blood seeps through the thin fabric of Michael’s chemise. The curve in the captain’s sneer deepens.

His next move is lightning-quick, merciless, and sure. Louis flinches as the captain flips his cutlass in the air, catching it with his fist before driving it downwards towards Michael’s kneeling form. It cuts through the air with an audible whoosh and imbeds itself into the wood, slicing through the thin cotton of Michael’s shirt and pinning him to the ship’s deck. Michael tugs and tries to wrench himself from the sword’s hold but ultimately stills and drops his head.

The crew shouts out in unison. A cacophonous sound of approving cries and commendations. The captain smirks as the crew moves up to pat him on the shoulder and slap his back. Moving forward, he grabs the hilt of the cutlass and _pulls_ , wrenching it from the wooden boards. Michael topples a bit before straightening up and holding out a hand.

“Good fight,” Louis hears him say.

The captain sneers and knocks his hand aside, sheathing his sword and making his way toward Louis. He tilts his chin up as the captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

Louis looks up at him through his eyelashes and blinks slowly, “I hate it when you bet on me,” he whispers back, darting out his tongue to wet his lips, “like I’m some object to be won and coveted.”

“On the contrary, princess,” the words are hot and breathy against his lips as the captain inches closer, “You are my greatest treasure.”

Louis presses a hand against the captain’s chest, his chemise sticking to the heated, sweaty skin, “Shut up.” 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he tightens his hold around Louis’ waist and leans in, pressing their lips together in a kiss.

Louis whimpers and fists his hand in the captain’s shirt, pulling him in even closer. His lips part of their own accord and the captain licks into his mouth, easily taking control. The arm around his waist tightens and flexes, the muscles bulging as Louis is lifted onto the bar of the ship’s railing. His stomach swoops with the knowledge that there is only the sea and wind at his back. His legs wrap around the captain’s waist and he throws his other arm around his neck, tangling his fingers into sweaty curls.

“Harry,” he gasps and throws his head back, breaking the kiss. He inhales shakily as the captain’s lips travel down to his neck to suck at his pulse point. Looking through glazed, almost-shut eyes, Louis catches Michael’s dark look aimed at the captain’s back.

 _Oh yes_ , a lot can change in six months.

☾

Moonlight streams through the small portholes along the sides of the ship as most of the crew sleeps in their bunks. The hammocks swaying with each rock of the boat and the creaking of wood keeps Louis awake. He’s curled up in his hammock, fists pressed to his chest. The ship continues to cut through the waves as the night goes on. He can barely hear the shouting of the crew on the top deck through his small window.

He turns over in his hammock, careful not to spin out of it. Rolling out the pins and needles in his shoulder, Louis lets out a small gasp when he notices Michael watching him from the next bed over. The man gives him an apologetic look, mouthing “sorry.” Louis waves him off with a smile.

They stare at each other for a few minutes until Michael jumps out of his hammock, landing lightly on the balls of his feet without a sound. He walks over and holds out a hand. “Care to take a walk?” He whispers into the quiet. His eyes glitter with mischief.

Louis bites his lip and places his hand in Michael’s, “I would love to,” he smiles back.

Together, they sneak around the slumbering bodies of the crew, careful not to step on any of the creaky boards. Eventually, they make their way out of the barracks and into the hallway that leads to the scullery. Louis happily winds his arms around Michael’s bicep and presses in close. Looking down and sending him a smile, Michael leads them through the small dining hall and into the kitchen. Louis glances sideways at the man’s profile, biting his lip and blushing when Michael catches him looking.

The plates and bowls from dinner are still piled up in the sink when they enter. Food is haphazardly stored in barrels and boxes around the room. Regretfully pulling away from Michael’s body heat, Louis pulls himself up onto the counter, legs swinging as he watches Michael pour them some rum and begin to look through the stores. He pulls out a bit of dried meat and some old cheese, handing Louis a slice of bread to go with it.

“This feels wrong,” Louis says worriedly through a mouthful, “We might run out of supplies early if we keep coming out here at night.”

Michael places a large hand on his thigh to stop the swinging. The heat of his palm burns through the thin cotton pants Louis wears as nightclothes. His breath stutters slightly as the hand around his thigh squeezes slightly before patting him _once, twice,_ and then letting go.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Michael reassures him, resting his elbows on the counter next to Louis’s thighs, “I talked to the cook about it.” They share a conspiratorial grin.

Louis takes another bite of his bread, tapping his fingers in a random rhythm against the cold wood beneath him. “So,” Michael breaks the silence, “what’s going on between you and the captain?”

Louis stops tapping. He coughs a bit, his eyes watering as he struggles to breathe around a piece of cheese. Clearing his throat, he manages to swallow it. Through teary eyes, he notices Michael standing at his side, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other resting on his knee.

He huffs out a relieved breath, “Fuck, are you okay?”

Louis nods and coughs a bit more. “Fine,” he manages, “uh, you surprised me.”

“Did I?” Michael laughs, “Can’t see why, you guys seem pretty open about it.”

Louis furrows his brow and looks over his shoulder at Michael. “Open about _what?_ ” There’s a noticeable sharpness to his tone that makes Michael stop and look down at him. Louis continues, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “I don’t know what you’ve assumed, but I can guarantee that it’s not what it looks like.”

“So you’re not fucking the captain?” Michael says bluntly. His smile is flat and lifeless.

Louis bristles and pulls away, jumping off of the counter and making his way to the door. A hand wraps around his bicep and pulls him back into a firm chest. Strong arms wrap around his waist and hold him close. “Damn it,” Michael curses again, “I didn’t mean to say it like that. I— my head isn’t in the right place right now.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just presses back into the heat of Michael’s body, crosses his arms, and pouts. They sway together for a few minutes, listening to the creak of wood and the skittering of vermin. Months ago would have found Louis yelling and shrieking on the tabletops but he now takes comfort in the small sounds, lets them ground him in the moment. Sniffling, Louis presses his hands against Michael’s. The sounds of the ship and the feeling of breath against the nape of his neck ground him. Louis inhales deeply, letting his eyes fall closed at the smell of wood, aged food, and something that’s distinctly _Michael_.

“We’re not— we haven’t _fucked_ ,” he admits. He feels the sudden shift of muscle and the twitch of shock in the body leaning against him, “I don’t really know what it is. Nothing serious, though.”

Michael leans in, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder and tightening his grip around his stomach. “You’re not leaving me for him, are you?” He jokes.

Louis breathes out a quiet laugh and presses his face to Michael’s, nuzzling their cheeks together. “Never,” he promises.

He can hear Michael gulp, feels him inhale sharply. “Louis, listen—“

The door opens.

Louis’ eyes widen as the large form of the captain fills the doorway. His shoulders are slightly drooped and he’s rubbing a hand against his forehead as he enters. Michael pulls away, leaving Louis cold and confused between them. He looks back and forth until Harry notices that he isn’t alone. “Ah,” his deep voice echoes in the small room, “what are you doing up this late, princess?”

Louis automatically scowls at the nickname but softens when Harry reaches out and tangles their fingers together. 

“We came to get a small snack,” he looks back at Michael and smiles.

Harry barely glances over his shoulder at the other man before his attention is back on Louis. His hand engulfs Louis’ and he tugs him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and dipping him backward. Louis lets out a small shriek and grabs at Harry’s sleeve in surprise. “Didn’t want to come and visit me?” Harry leans in and presses his lips to Louis’ ear, “Told you to stop by if you couldn’t sleep.”

Despite the innocent words, Louis can feel himself blush. He glances over at Michael, sitting on one of the stools by the wall and chewing on a bit of dried meat as he watches them, and feels his blush deepen. He pushes against Harry’s shoulder and sighs gratefully when he stands on both feet again. “Was just a little hungry,” he mumbles shyly, twisting his fingers in the undone laces of Harry’s shirt.

“‘m sure I’ve got something that could satiate you,” Louis gasps when Harry pulls him in close, making sure that Louis can feel the large bulge hidden in the fabric of his pants against his side. He bites his lip and feels himself twitch, his grip on Harry’s shirt twisting slightly as he looks up and meets the captain’s heated eyes. Harry leans in again and presses his warms lips against the skin of Louis’ throat. “What do you say, baby? Care to walk me back to my quarters?”

Louis can feel the whimpering _yes_ on the tip of his tongue. The muscles in his thighs tighten and quiver when Harry glances at him through lowered lids. The cool air of the kitchen is suddenly twenty degrees warmer, Louis thinks. His head starts to swim.

Another hand lands on his back, the pressure sure and cool. Louis breaks the surface and breathes in. He looks back at Michael whose hand is pressed firmly to the middle of his back. Harry pulls back. “I think we should return to the barracks,” Michael says. To who, Louis isn’t quite sure. But he nods anyway.

When he turns back to Harry, there’s a look in his eyes as he watches Michael pull Louis away. A dark fire, Louis thinks, embers ready to burst into flame. The look breaks away as he glances down at Louis again. “Next time, then,” he says. Louis can only nod again as he’s dragged away from the scullery and back to the barracks.

When they’re back in their respective hammocks, Louis turns his head and looks over toward Michael. His eyes are shut and his breathing is even, but Louis knows he’s awake. “Thank you,” he whispers, “for tonight.”

Michael stays still for another minute before he cracks open an eye and glances at him, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile. “No problem, babe,” he says easily, “Anytime.”

Louis hides his own smile in the darkness and pulls his shabby blanket over his shoulders before easily falling into a peaceful sleep. Dreams of fiery waves and a cool breeze fill his head.

☾

Numbness. Cold. Apathy.

Louis has become very familiar with those feelings since Davy Jones caught up to their ship and took Michael from them. A trade, he said, in exchange for removing the cursed mark on their own captain. Michael had willingly gone, offered himself up. Louis can’t stop thinking of the look they shared as Davy Jones prodded him across the wooden plank linking their boats. Louis’ eyes were filled with terror and Michael’s with resolution.

Louis has taken to either standing next to Harry at the helm, the captain’s arm wrapped around his shoulders like a constant, warm blanket, or in the captain’s quarters where he lies in bed and soaks the pillowcase with tears. He no longer eats with the crew or watches their daily sparring sessions on the deck. The only time he spends outside on the ship is with Harry at his side.

Of course, it was different at the beginning, when he blamed Harry for Michael’s abduction. Davy Jones would have never come if he hadn’t been cursed, he yelled and cried. Harry stood steadfast against his anger and held him together when he finally broke. Pressed against his chest, Louis cried and yelled until he was empty.

Three weeks later, the heat and fire of anger have dulled and cooled to a frigid numbness. Louis is currently bundled up in a mountain of blankets in Harry’s bed, watching as the man works at his desk. There’s a pile of maps and compasses on the surface next to him and a bunch of books are stacked up precariously on the edge. Harry sits at his chair, his large frame easily taking up the most room.

Sighing, Louis untangles himself from his makeshift nest and walks over to the books, taking a few and putting starting a new, less precarious, pile. Harry watches him carefully as he moves, setting his quill down and steeling his fingers between his chin. Louis dutifully avoids catching his eye, keeping his own gaze on the maps and books. He absentmindedly trails a finger down the coast of Morocco until it reaches the Canary Islands. 

“Louis,” Harry sighs. Louis feels his lip quiver at his gentle tone, feels the shake spread to his knees. He falls to the ground, barely holding himself up by the edge of the desk. Harry hurriedly stands and makes his way around to Louis, wrapping his arms around his small frame. Pulling Louis onto his lap, Harry sits back against the wall of his quarters and lets him cry. “He’ll be back, darling,” Harry presses the words against his temple.

Louis shakes his head and presses himself further into the curves and edges of Harry’s body, forcing his head into the curve of his neck. Pressing his sobs into the skin of his captain’s throat, Louis whimpers. “I miss him,” he cries out softly, “Why did he leave me?”

Harry hushes him and strokes a large hand down his back. He doesn’t say anything else, just listens to Louis as he mourns the loss of his friend. Harry moves him around with ease, slipping both of their shirts over their heads before laying back down beside him. The skin-to-skin contact warms Louis’ chilled skin. The shivering stops but the sobbing doesn’t.

Pressing his hand against the small of his back, Harry closes his eyes and just listens.

When he opens his eyes, the candles in the corners of the room have gone out, wax all but melted away. The room is dark, but Harry can tell from the scant light that’s trying to creep through the small curtains that dawn has broken. In his arms, Louis begins to stir.

Whimpering, Louis presses his face further into the sturdy chest beneath him. Harry’s hand begins to rub soothing strokes down his back and his deep voice is gravelly and sleep-rough. “Time to wake up, Lou,” he’s saying. Louis shakes his head. Harry chuckles, the sound sending small shivers dancing down Louis’s spine. “Why don’t you pick a book and get settled in the bed, hm? I’ll grab us some food.”

Louis latches onto his arm as he tries to disentangle them, shaking his head frantically. “Don’t leave me,” he pleads, “Please, _please_ , don’t leave me alone.”

Harry sits back down and wraps his arms around the shaking boy, running a firm hand down his sides. “Of course not, darling,” he says. “Can we move to the bed, at least? As much as I love this position, princess, human beings aren’t meant to sit against a wall for hours on end.”

Louis sniffles and nods, letting Harry guide him over to the covered bed. They climb in together and Louis immediately latches on to the captain’s chest, suckling gently at the warm skin and wrapping his arms around his neck. A few hours pass, the two of them gently falling in and out of consciousness. In the lucid moments, they share small kisses and whispers between them, nuzzling together in the sleepier lulls. The rocking of the boat on the waves, like a child’s cradle, eventually draws Louis into a deeper sleep.

When he wakes up, the curtains have been drawn open and the cabin is filled with the bright light of midday. Harry sits at his desk once again, head cradled in one head as he looks down at the maps scattered across the surface. Louis whines.

Glancing over, Harry’s eyes soften when he notices that Louis is awake. He pushes away from the desk and makes his way over. “What’s going on, Louis?” he mutters as he climbs onto the bed, pressing his hands on either side of his head and hovering over Louis’ relaxed form, “What do you need? Food? Water?”

Louis shakes his head and lifts a hand, wrapping it up in the worn fabric of Harry’s tunic. “Need you,” he whispers, pulling him closer, “Please. I just want to forget.”

Harry sighs and flops over to lie on the mattress next to him on his side. Louis shuffles and flops over to look at him, letting go of Harry’s shirt to rest it on the pillow beneath his head. Harry cups his hip with one hand and rubs the sleep-warmed skin with his thumb. Goosebumps erupt along his side at the calloused skin and he lets out a shaky breath. Tilting his head up a little Louis hesitantly presses a small kiss to Harry’s lips.

There’s no movement for a few seconds until Harry surges forward and presses their lips together with force, reaching around Louis and guiding him to lie on his back. “Want me to distract you?” He whispers it against Louis’ mouth, the hand on his hip slowly trailing down to trace a pattern against thigh, “Want me to fill your head with only thoughts of me? My cock?”

Louis nods eagerly, the hand next to his head curling into a fist when Harry wraps his fingers around Louis’ wrist. The grip is tight and dominant, not letting up one bit even when Louis pulls against it. Moving over, Harry settles between Louis’ spread thighs. He taps his fingers twice against Louis’ hip. Swallowing back a whimper, Louis nods again. “Yes,” he breathes, “Please, Harry.”

Leaning back, Harry gives him a smug smile. “That’s right, baby,” his hand dances up from Louis’ thigh slowly, nails scratching a red trail along his hip and stomach until he reaches Louis’ nipple. He moves in closer and slowly circles the hardening nub, “Focus on me. Think only think of me.”

Louis lets out a small, pleased sound at the stimulation, pressing his lips together as he squirms beneath Harry’s pressing weight. His mouth falls slack and open when Harry rakes a fingernail across his nipple as his other hand releases its hold on Louis’ wrist. He strokes a finger against his chin as he watches the boy beneath him with a heated, critical eye.

“What?” Louis says, cheeks flushing under his intense look. He fights against the urge to cover his exposed chest.

Harry reaches down and presses his finger to Louis’ lips, shushing him gently. “Just admiring you,” he says. He licks his lips when Louis’ tongue peeks out and laps gently at the tip of his finger. His teeth bravely graze at the skin as he looks up at Harry from beneath his lashes.

Groaning, Harry pulls back to strip himself of his shirt. The fabric flutters to the floor and Harry rises up to his knees, shuffling forward until his knees are on either side of Louis’ chest. He tilts his head down to look at him, a smirk painted across full lips. “Go on, princess,” he nods his head towards the tent in his trousers.

Louis swallows and reaches up to curl his fingers in the waistband of Harry’s pants, pulling them down until they rest underneath the curve of his ass. His cock falls out, heavy and full with a leaking tip. Louis stretches his neck and laps at the salty bead, licking his lips as he pulls back savouring the musk. Harry hums, threading a hand through Louis’ hair and tugging his head back a bit to look at him.

Louis opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, one hand reaching up to curl around Harry’s wrist. He nods once and Harry slowly guides his cock into the warm, wet hole. Louis lets his eyes roll back, eyelashes fluttering to a close.

He lets himself forget, if only for a while.

☾

The sun is brightly shining, burning skin, and bleaching the sails when Louis’ family’s forces find them. It’s not like he thought they haven’t been looking for him, he’d just hoped that they thought him dead. To be honest, he would have preferred if they did. Instead, they’d sent out every navy ship in their possession to scour the seas for him. The call comes from the crow’s nest, a desperate “Incoming ship on port side!”

Louis feels his heart seize in his chest at the thought of the ship coming closer. The last time they’d been visited, Michael had left him. Louis sniffles and moves closer to Harry. The man wraps an arm around his shoulder and shouts back to the crewmate in the crow’s nest, “Colours?”

A heavy silence blankest the deck for a few minutes, no one daring to speak a word. Louis feels his breath catch in his throat when the man shouts back, “Red, Captain.”

“Fuck,” Harry curses. Louis watches him with wide eyes. One of his hands is grasped tightly in the fabric of Harry’s coat and he thinks he’s shaking. He’s not sure. He focuses on his hand and tunes everything out, the sounds of the waves and the gulls fading to a dull fuzz.

 _Red_. The colour of the British navy. The colour of their ships. Louis had seen them enough times as a boy, waving from the balcony on the top floor of the castle with his mother’s arms wrapped around him to keep him from falling. _Red_ , he thinks, red like the colour of the blood Harry had spilled across the floor when he’d thrust his sword through Louis’ father’s chest, killing him instantly.

His breathing speeds up, catching in his throat with each inhale. Sweat beads at his forehead and his fingers are tangled in his hair. Louis shuts his eyes again and pushes everything out. But still, he feels the strength of Harry’s hand at his back, guiding him through across the deck and into his room. The warmth of his hand burns through Louis’ thin shirt and brands the skin underneath. Louis presses back against it.

Soon, the unsteady wooden floor of the floor gives way to soft blankets and a plush comforter. Louis’s eyes flutter open and he looks up at Harry who’s sitting beside him on the bed. “Um,” he croaks. Harry shushes him and presses against his shoulder lightly. Louis easily falls back into the pillows and breathes in the familiar scent infused in the fabric.

“You’re going to stay here,” Harry tells him. Louis stiffens and tries to sit up but is stopped by the firm hand on his chest. “We’re not going to fight them. We’ll take out the silks.”

Louis bites his lip and wraps an arm around Harry’s neck, pulling him in close. Harry leans over him, bracing himself with a hand on either side of Louis’ neck. “Come back to me,” Louis says seriously. His eyes hard and a little wet. His bottom lip quivers slightly before he slips it back between his teeth.

Harry lifts a hand to curl it softly around the nape of Louis’ neck, his thumb pressing into the hollow of his throat. Letting his mouth drop open slightly, Louis breathes in a soft breath and locks eyes with Harry. The man looks down at him and bends down, pressing their noses together. “I will come back to you,” he swears, “I promise.”

Louis tilts his head up, pressing their lips together. The kiss is a slow, binding promise. Harry nips at his bottom lip, letting his tongue lick into Louis’ mouth when he gasps. His grip tightens around Louis’ throat for a second before he pulls away to press their foreheads together. “I promise,” he says again.

Louis nods and lets him go, turning his head into the pillows. He hears Harry shout orders to take out the silks and leathers from the barracks, the cover he and Louis’d planned to disguise the ship as a trading vessel unfolding.

The sound of huffing and dragging of wood against wood bleeds through the cracks in the door and Louis presses a pillow over his head to try and muffle the noise. When he thinks about the fact that the incoming ship is coming for him, he screams into the soft meat of his arm, biting into it when he gets too anxious. By the end of the crew’s preparations, when Louis can hear Harry moving about the deck giving orders more fit for a silk’s tradesman than a pirate captain, there are spots of blood and slobber all over the sheets. Small rivulets trails down the skin of his arm and his tongue tastes iron.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he hears Harry’s order to raise a flag. Time passes _oh, so slowly_ as they wait for the navy vessel’s response. Louis clasps his hands in front of his mouth to hold in a frightened scream when the other ship’s plank knocks onto their deck.

 _They’re coming here?_ Louis wants to throw something against the door, preferably the entire desk. 

A deep voice floats through the room as the navy captain begins to speak. “I would like to speak to your captain,” he says. Louis feels his brows furrow at the sound of the man’s familiar voice.

Harry’s voice comes next, warm and comforting. “Yes, I am the captain of the ship,” he says in an exaggerated accent, “How can I help you, sir?”

The navy officer’s voice travels as he speaks and Louis guesses that he’s walking around the deck of the ship, looking over the goods and trade. “We are looking for a pirate ship in these waters,” he tells them, “They hold the prince of Oskaria hostage. Have you seen any suspicious ships recently?”

Hearing the name of his nation brings tears to Louis’ eyes. He can’t help but think of the morning spent wandering around the small village square with his sisters, buying freshly baked goods and buying different ribbons and dresses for his sister. He thinks of the first time he’d seen Michael working at the forge, how he’d still been bigger than Louis, but was comically smaller than the blacksmith in charge.

He thinks of the way Michael would wave at him whenever they would meet eyes across the street. Tears sting at the back of Louis’ eyes and he wipes at them. Then, the man speaks again and everything clicks into place.

“The prince, you see,” he’s saying condescendingly, “is my betrothed. And I would very much like to have him back in time for our wedding.”

Louis chokes and sits up, staring at the closed door. _John had come for him?_ The image of the man appears in his head, the long blonde hair and chiseled jawline. His thick eyebrows and plump lips. The lips that never stopped talking about his own achievements and successes. Louis sneers. _Fuck that_.

He remembers the fight he’d put up against his father when the man had come knocking at the palace doors, demanding an audience with the king. It had barely been an hour before his father was announcing Louis’ engagement to the rest of the family. And now the king was dead, Louis realizes, and he’s the next in line. _In time for our wedding, my ass. He just wants to be king._

Harry’s voice interrupts Louis’s inner monologue. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen such a thing, Monsieur,” his voice takes on a cocky tone and Louis can picture him vividly, leaning confidently against the balustrade as he watches John pick through the silks. “But I’ll keep a lookout.”

“Hm.”

“Was there anything else we could do for you, Monsieur?” Harry pushes him a bit, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “I’m afraid we must set course once more if we want to stick to our schedule.”

John sputters out an unintelligible answer, finishing with a forced “Nothing today. Please send word if you do see those dirty pirates.”

“Of course,” Harry tells him. The sound of footsteps echoes throughout the ship, then the plank is retrieved and Harry continues his act, ordering the few men he’d kept on the deck to prepare to sail.

Silence falls over the ship as they move further and further away from the naval ship. Louis doesn’t know how long he sits there, letting blood fall in rivulets down his arm. Soon enough, the door to the room opens and the light shines through, silhouetting Harry’s form as he walks in. Shutting the door behind him, he leans back against the wood and sighs. The ostentatious hat on his head hides his face from Louis’ view.

“Your betrothed?” He says. It both is and isn’t a question. Louis nods nonetheless. Harry nods, “He’s a dick.”

Letting out a shocked laugh, Louis smiles for what feels like the first time in forever. “Yeah, he really is,” he agrees, “I never wanted to marry him. That was his and my father’s idea.”

Harry raises his head and reveals his face, the amused grin on his lips almost splitting it. “I know, darling,” he says, laughter clear in his voice, “You’d never have such bad taste.”

Louis falls back onto the bed, bouncing once before raising his hands above his head and stretching, “I’m so glad you know me enough to know I’d never go for _that_ of my own volition,” he groans.

Prowling closer, Harry crawls onto the bed, hovering over Louis. “Oh, princess,” he purrs, the air around them shifting into something heady and warm, “I know you _much_ better than that.”

Louis smiles up at him and wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, pulling him in and reveling in the heavy weight of Harry’s body over his when he slowly lowers himself onto him. The familiar hard press of Harry’s slowly stirring arousal against his thigh has Louis panting slightly. “I know,” he whispers. He doesn’t mention his own hardness and neither does Harry.

Taking comfort in the warm weight around him, Louis falls into a deep sleep. He doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night screaming for Michael for the first time in a month.

☾

Michael returns to the ship almost a month later, waterlogged and half-drowned, clinging to a slab of driftwood. Louis is sleeping in Harry’s bed, the man himself at the helm for the first time in days. It’s the clamour and racket of the crewmen shouting about something in the water that wakes Louis. His head is pounding and his eyes are slick with mucus. Wiping the sleep away, he sits up and listens.

“Captain!” he hears someone shout, “Body in the water!”

“Blimey!” Someone else exclaims, “S’that Michael!?”

Louis feels his heart stop. Then it starts up again at twice the speed, the desperate _thump, thump, thump_ of blood rushing through his ears. He sits up in bed, the blankets pooling around him, and stares at the closed door to the ship’s deck. He starts to get up but stops when the first man’s words register in his head.

Body?

Breath speeding up, Louis strains his ears to hear more but only gets scattered words and cries. Harry’s voice cuts through the noise suddenly, loud and clear like a beacon on a foggy night. “Pull him up!” He shouts the order.

Louis holds his breath blindly as the crew pulls Michael from the ocean’s clutches. He can hear the calls “Heave! Ho!” as they bring him onto the deck. He jumps when there’s a sudden knock at the door, air being pushed from his lungs with each pound of fist against wood.

“Yes?” Louis calls out, flinching at the obvious quiver in his voice.

The door creaks open and Harry peeks his head in. He looks around the room, his eyes slipping over the desk, dining table, and love-seat before catching on to Louis’s form, still half-in and half-out of bed. His countenance softens and he holds out a hand. “He’s back,” he smiles tenuously.

Louis feels his mask crack a bit, scrambling out of bed and into Harry’s arms as the man pulls him up against him and out of the cabin toward the mast in the center of the deck where most of the crew is crouched around a prone form. Louis feels another piece of his mask fall off when he sees Michael laying on the wooden planks of the ship, his face pale and slightly slimmer than it was when he left. But he’s here and he’s _alive_. His chest rises and falls ever so slightly with each breath and there’s a flush to his face. Louis pushes away from Harry and falls to his knees on the deck.

“Darling—“ Harry tries to reach out as Louis crawls away from him to get to Michael.

“Fuck, fuck,” Louis gasps as he gets closer. “ _Michael,_ wake up.” His hand softly cups the contours of his best friend’s face, tilting it up to the warmth of the sun.

He’s leaning over Michael, tears running down his cheeks as he looks down at him. When nothing happens, Louis presses his hands against Michael’s chest desperately. “Wake _up!_ ”

He watches in sudden horror as Michael’s neck convulses, looking back at Harry right before Michael’s body jolts and he’s turning on his side to cough out seawater. Louis falls back as Michael chokes and vomits, water being forced out of his lungs and onto the deck. “ _Fuck,_ ” he coughs, rubbing a hand against his throat.

Hands pressed to his mouth, Louis watches through teary eyes as Michael takes in the ship and crew, his eyes wandering over the forms of the ship, the plain sails, and the intimidating silhouette of their captain before landing on Louis’ shaking body. He reaches out and brushes the tips of his fingers against the soft cotton of Louis’ pants, “Louis,” he says. His voice is raspy and broken, so different from what Louis remembers. Michael opens his arms, “come here, baby.”

Without a second thought, Louis falls forward and pitches himself into Michael’s waiting arms. Sobs wrack through his body and tears stream down his cheeks, pooling sightly in the hollow of Michael’s throat before bleeding into the wet fabric of his shirt.

Then the doctor is there and they’re pulling Michael away from him and Louis is holding onto his wet shirt for dear life, crying and screaming and _please, please don’t take him away again_. Then Harry is there, wrapping both arms around Louis’ waist and taking him into strong arms, carrying him away from the deck and back into the cabin. And Louis is screaming, _keening_ into his chest. His fists twist into Harry’s sleeves and he’s tugging at them weakly to try and get him to turn around. The door closes shut behind them and cuts off the sounds of the ship outside.

Harry gently places him back into bed, grabbing the discarded blankets and piling them up around Louis’ limp form. “We’ll go together and see him tomorrow,” he promises, “John will take care of him until then.”

Louis barely has the strength to argue, just reaches up and runs a hand through Harry’s curls. The captain climbs into bed beside him, pulls him up, and wraps his arms around him. Louis all-too-easily falls into a frightful sleep.

After that, Louis doesn’t leave Michael’s side.

For the week he’s admitted to the medic bay, Louis is by side constantly. Day and night find him slumped over in the small chair by the bed or flitting around the small room. Michael sleeps mostly, but Louis fusses over him regardless. He changes his sheets and fluffs his pillows whenever he can, only leaving the room when the doctor, John, forces him to with a cold look.

When that happens, Louis will always find Harry. He’ll usually be at the helm of the ship or in the captain’s quarters pouring over maps and letters. Whenever Louis shows up, though, he’s quick to push everything aside to take care of the boy. He’ll pull him into his lap and run a soothing hand across his back, whisper funny jokes and tales into his ear, and just make him _forget_. Then the doctor will come out and Louis will take his quick leave.

Louis finds solace in those moments, just as much as he finds structure and comfort in the hours he spends by Michael’s side. Even when Michael is discharged and sent back to the crew barracks, Louis will follow him around the ship, arms hooked permanently around Michael’s bicep. He wakes up with Michael, eats with Michael, and works with Michael. He doesn’t know what happened on Davy Jones’ ship, and to be honest, he doesn’t _want_ to know. It’s enough for him that Michael is back and safe with him.

Then Louis wakes up one morning alone. The barracks are empty save a few members of the crew who work at night. His heart hammers in his chest and he almost falls out of the hammock in his rush to get out.

He hurries out of the hold and out to the deck, eyes roving wildly over the faces and forms he finds there. When he doesn’t find the familiar features, Louis reaches out and grabs onto the passing arm of one of the gunners. His eyes are desperate and wild when he turns to look up at him, “Where is Michael,” he grits out. It’s not a question.

The man gulps as he looks down at Louis and points toward the door that leads to the captain’s quarters. Louis lets go of his arm and marches right up to it, not bothering to knock before kicking it open. He crosses his arms at the sight that greets him.

Harry and Michael sit opposite each other on either side of the dining table set in the middle of the room. The cutlery isn’t set, the only food on the surface a small plate of dried biscuits and an untouched pot of tea.

Harry looks over at Louis and smiles, extending a hand out toward him. “Louis,” he says, delightfully surprised.

Walking in, he looks between them before taking Harry’s hand and being pulled into his lap. Louis wriggles against the hold, half of him wanting to get up and touch Michael and the other half fighting to stay still and enjoy the embrace. He eventually stops squirming and lets his head fall back against Harry’s shoulder with an exhale.

Michael watches him with a quirked lip. “Sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going this morning,” he reaches a hand across the table, taking Louis’ and tangling their fingers together. Louis feels his heart slow to a normal pace. Michael continues, “I had to talk to the captain about something.”

Louis gives him a small smile. “S’fine,” he slurs, the heat of Harry’s body around him making him drowsy, “It's not like I'm your mother or anything.”

He can feel Harry chuckle, feels the hot breath of his laugh against his ear. “I’d hope not,” he says.

Michael gives the captain an odd look that Louis can’t quite decipher before pushing his chair back and standing. “Well, I’ve got to get back to work,” he holds out a hand, “Pleasure speaking with you, Captain.”

Harry reaches over and clasps their hands together, shaking once before letting go and letting his arm fall heavy and possessive across Louis’ stomach. “The pleasure was all mine,” he drawls.

Louis starts squirming again when he realizes that Michael’s about to leave but Harry only tightens his hold around him. Louis twists his head trying to look back at him, “I have to go too,” he pleads. Slipping down a few inches in Harry’s hold, “ _Harry_.”

“No, darling,” Harry says, pulling Louis back up into his lap properly, “You’re staying with me today. I haven’t seen you in days.”

Louis can feel the anxiety building in the base of his chest, bubbling, and boiling up to his throat. He turns to the door once more, pleading with some unknown power that it would just open and Michael would walk back in and join them. But he doesn’t and Louis knows he needs to put some space between them. It’s in the way they get catcalled by the other men on the deck, the way that Michael blushes and subtly tries to pull away at dinner. Louis stops fighting Harry’s grip and goes slack in his hold.

“He hates me,” Louis pouts.

“He doesn’t,” Harry takes Louis’ chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts his head back toward him. Louis parts his lips on a soft exhale, looking up at a chiseled jawline, “He loves you. He just knows that your attachment is getting to an irreversible point. You need space away from each other.”

Louis licks his lips. “You’re very well-spoken for a pirate,” he notes.

“Ah,” Harry gives him a crooked smile, “I wasn’t always a pirate now, was I?”

Louis pushes away and Harry lets him go easily this time, leaning an elbow against the arm of his chair and hiding his mouth behind a few fingers as he watches Louis walk around his room. Louis runs the tip of his finger along the spines of the books crammed into the wall-mounted bookcase, stopping when he reaches the leather-bound book that reads _Don Quixote_ and turns to look back at Harry.

“No,” the words pass through amused lips, “I suppose not.”

Tilting his head back, Louis lets himself fall against the bookcase. He watches through lowered lashes as Harry lifts himself from the chair and prowls across the room toward him. His eyes are dark and his smirk is dangerous as his hands cage Louis in on either side of his head. He presses in close, their bodies almost touching, the tease of heat vibrating between them. “What are you doing, baby?” Harry growls, “Teasing me or trying to distract yourself from running outside to your blacksmith?”

Feeling called out, Louis surges forward instead of answering, locking their lips together in a heated kiss. His arms wind around Harry’s neck and the man answers in kind, snaking a hand down to grasp at Louis’ thigh and lift him up. He moves forward and holds Louis up against the bookcase, their bodies meeting in a passionate collision. Louis rolls his hips down desperately, his fingers twisting in Harry’s curls and the ruffles of his collar.

“Shut up,” Louis bites.

He melts back against the bookcase when Harry leans forward and presses his plush lips to his throat, trailing kisses down his neck and into his collarbones. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and holds himself up, reaching back and pulling a few books down from the shelves when Harry thrusts up against him, the curve of his cock pressing against Louis’ balls. “Shit,” Harry grunts.

Louis twists his fingers in Harry’s curls and tugs his head back. Harry goes easily, letting his head fall back and exposing his throat cockily to Louis who leans forward and licks a stripe up the length of his neck, ending with a quick nip to his chin. “Wanna suck your cock,” Louis says quietly against his jaw.

“Fuck,” Harry’s hips twitch against Louis’ ass, “Yeah, fuck.”

He slowly brings Louis back to the ground, one foot at a time. When he’s standing, Louis looks around the room and considers the different pieces of furniture. Biting his lip, he points to the desk and chair on the small elevated platform toward the back of the room. “Go sit there,” he orders.

Quirking an eyebrow, Harry makes his way over with a muttered “Aye, aye.”

Settled in with his legs spread and the chair pushed away from the desk, Louis can’t help but compare him to a king of sorts sitting on his throne. Harry leans an elbow on the ornate elbow of the chair and rests his cheek in his hand, watching Louis with curious, heated eyes as he comes closer. Standing in front of Harry, Louis presses both of his palms on the armrests at Harry's sides and leans forward until their mouths are only centimetres apart. They breathe each others’ air for a few seconds. The room is thick with unspoken words and heavy desire.

Slowly, Louis sinks down to his knees between Harry’s spread legs. Pulling the leather band from around his wrist, Louis gathers his hair into a small ponytail before tying it back with the leather strip. Some of it slips out from the bind, falling around his face and tickling his neck. He lets his hands fall from the chair’s arms to land on Harry’s thighs, fingers spread and roaming. He lets the tip of his thumb brush up against the growing bulge in Harry’s pants, relishing in the twitch it elicits. Licking his lips, Louis glances up through his lashes at Harry as he slowly peels back his trousers and reaches in to pull out his cock.

Louis leans in to press against Harry’s pelvic bone, nuzzling into the base of his shaft. He inhales sharply, feeling the tension in his shoulders melt away slightly at the familiar musk and scent of Harry’s body. A finger rubs against the apple of his cheek, warm and gentle. Harry softly pinches and presses a knuckle against his cheekbone. “You’re all flushed, princess,” he’s saying, voice all melted dark chocolate and honey, “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

Louis hums and nods, licking around the base of his cock. He curls his fingers around the shaft and pumps a few times, coating his palm in slick pre-come to ease the glide. “Yeah,” he breathes, “Love your cock.”

Harry lets his hand fall to Louis’ neck, fingers easily reaching around his throat. He doesn’t squeeze or tighten, just lets them rest against his skin. Louis lets his eyes flutter shut, pulling his head back to tongue at the slit of Harry’s cock. He hears the man above him hiss and catches a glimpse of a hand curling into a tight fist on the chair's armrest.

Pulling back, Louis takes a deep breath before diving back in, swallowing almost 5 inches of Harry’s cock at once. He coughs when the head catches at the back of his throat, but pushes forward. He laves at the bottom of the shaft, following a vein with the flat of his tongue. Harry’s hand wraps around the back of his neck but he doesn’t push. Just lets it rest there.

“Baby,” he breathes out through his nose, “Doing so well.”

Louis pushes and pushes forward until finally his nose is pressed against Harry’s pelvis. His threat convulses around his cock when he swallows and Harry holds him still with the hand on his head as he thrusts lightly forward. Louis hums softly, eyes going hazy. His head swims and drool coats his chin, a shiny glob of bubbly spit dripping from his mouth as Harry pulls out. Louis coughs slightly as he takes another deep breath.

He wraps his hands around the back of Harry’s thighs, “Want you to come in my mouth,” he says, wincing slightly at his wrecked voice. He sways his hips, “Show me who I belong to.”

Harry rubs a thumb against his bottom lip. “The fact that you’re here with me,” he taps his cock against Louis’ cheek, slapping it a few times and leaving a sticky residue. “On your knees with my cock lodged so deep in your throat that you can barely breathe without my permission, dripping wet on my floor, tells me that you already know who you belong to, princess.”

Louis feels his mind go fuzzy as Harry pulls his cock back only to press it back into his mouth. He does it slowly at first, fucking in only so far. He pauses when Louis chokes around its girth, then thrusts his hips forward. Louis lets out a choking, gurgling sound as most of his length is sheathed inside of his throat at once. It’s hot and hard, salty pre-come coating the insides of his cheeks. Louis twirls his tongue around it as Harry pulls out and fucks back in. His fingers thread through Louis' hair, gripping harshly at the soft locks and tugging him forward with each thrust. The leather tie comes apart, tumbling down his shoulder and to the ground as his hair tumbles loosely around his face and neck. 

Harry goes at it for a bit until his rhythm breaks. He presses his cock all the way inside again and holds it there. Louis’s eyes roll back inside of his head and he focuses on breathing in through his nose as salty shots of come pump down his throat.

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry’s chest heaves as he pulls out for a final time, threads of spit and come connecting him to Louis’ lips. He kneels in front of Louis and reaches out to press a hand against his cock. Louis shivers and shakes his head, looking down at the wet spot in his trousers. “Did you—“

“I’m good,” he pants. “Thank you.”

Harry huffs out a breath of laughter, “Thank _you_ , Lou.”

Louis buries into his chest and shakes his head slightly. “Not just for this,” he mumbles, “For everything.”

Harry pets his head a few times before reaching down to wrap his hands around Louis’ thighs and standing. Louis squeals and wraps his legs around his waist. He lets out a happy sigh the Harry lays him down on the bed and climbs in after him. “I’m going to do some reading,” Harry tells him, “Are you alright if I leave the light on?”

Louis waves his hand, “You could turn into a sea lion and I wouldn’t care.”

Harry lets out a surprised laugh, “Good to know.”

He runs his fingers through Louis’ hair as he reads his book out loud, his voice soft and calming in the early morning light. Louis rests his cheek against his hip and shuts his eyes, not quite asleep but not awake enough that thoughts of Michael and Davy Jones fill his head. He sighs and nuzzles into Harry’s thigh, blocking out any thought that isn’t Harry’s voice.

☾

After that morning, Louis is less quick to attach himself to Michael’s side. It doesn’t stop altogether, of course, but the crew notices that the captain now holds his attention in equal measure. Most mornings find Louis climbing out of bed, whether it be in the barracks or in the captain’s quarters, and walking out to the deck to find either one of them. Sometimes he’ll sit on a small stool next to the wheel on the helm, watching as Harry steers the ship. Other times, the crew will find him following Michael around like a lost puppy, not strong enough to carry barrels or supplies.

After a few hours, either one of the men will complete their daily tasks and give Louis the attention he craves, hiding him away from the other men on the ship. Though, the men notice, they’ll rarely spend time together as a trio. Instead, they take turns.

That’s why most of the crew is surprised when Harry walks into the dining hall one night with Louis on his arm and Michael sightly behind them. The rumbling sound of voices and scraping utensils on plates quiets to an inaudible hum as they enter. The captain leads Louis to an empty table, leaving him alone with Michael for a few minutes as he fetches their plates.

They watch Louis lean into Michael’s body easily, the familiar and intimate air around them an almost visible barrier. The former blacksmith curls an arm around Louis’ shoulders and moves close to whisper something into his ear, making the boy giggle into his hand. He straightens up when Harry returns to them, placing the plates on the table and then sliding into his seat on Louis’ other side.

“Oi,” one of the ship’s carpenters hisses, “Wha’ are they doing ‘ere?”

Someone shushes him. The crew pretends to turn back to their plates, watching the trio from the corners of their eyes as they eat. The gentle sound of scraping metal and small conversations bubbles up in the air once more.

Unaware of their audience, Louis looks up at Harry as he swallows a dry bit of meat. “Can I have a sip of your drink?” He blinks prettily. Harry just pushes the cup over, watching with amused eyes as Louis almost chokes on the strong alcohol inside. “Woah,” he coughs and blinks away tears, “that’s really strong.”

The captain leans an elbow on the table and rests a cheek in his palm, looking at him fondly. “Now you know why we give you water,” he smirks and nods towards Michael with a twist to his mouth, “Your blacksmith insisted.”

Louis turns to look at him too, “When?”

Harry answers for him. “‘Bout an hour after you both boarded ship,” he says, turning away and taking a bite of food, “Just about barged into my room and demanded an audience.”

Louis’ eyes widen and he stares at Michael incredulously as the man studiously ignores them, focusing instead on his plate. Louis reaches out and pushes at his arm a bit to get his attention. He scowls when Michael continues to ignore him. “What if I _wanted_ to drink?” he demands, sticking a finger into Michael’s side and making the man flinch, “Why did you _do_ that?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, body contorting to get away from the sudden assault, “Louis, calm down.”

“No,” Louis pokes him again, and then once more for emphasis, “Why did you do that?”

Harry reaches over him and wraps a hand around the offending hand, stopping the attack. “Princess,” he says with a poorly-hidden laugh in his voice, “Please don’t attack your only friend for looking out for you.”

Louis’ mouth drops open. “He’s not my _only_ friend!” he cries and waves a hand around in the air, “I’m being _attacked_ by the two people I thought I could trust!”

He hears Michael sigh before a heavy weight settles itself against his back. Michael leans over him, resting his chin on the curve of Louis’ shoulder. “Baby,” his voice rolls over Louis in deep waves, “I just wanted to help. I remember you saying you were a lightweight once.”

Louis scoffs even though he can feel his heart warm, “So? That doesn’t mean I can’t drink at all.”

Harry shakes his head. “On a boat full of pirates?” he challenges, locking eyes with Louis, “I’m afraid I have to agree with him, princess.”

Louis wracks his brain to try and think of a comeback, falling back into Michael’s chest when he fails. “Whatever,” he mutters, crossing his arms in front of his chest and pouting up at Harry. “Not even one drink?” He holds up a finger.

Leaning against hand, Harry chuckles. He glances toward Michael for a second before his gaze returns to Louis. “Only under our supervision,” he concedes, raising his voice when Louis cheers, “and only a few drinks.”

Michael lets him go and turns back to his dinner when Louis surges forward and wraps his arms around Harry’s waist. “Thank you,” Louis says into his chest.

Harry just rolls his eyes and wraps an arm around Louis’ shoulders, pulling him away and pushing him back to his own plate. “Now, eat.”

The crew watches the boy turn happily back to his dinner, occasionally pushing up against Michael and getting a fond look in return. Harry watches him fondly, they notice. The stone-hearted captain of their ship, whipped and fond for a noble boy. They can’t help but feel protective over them, wanting to preserve the small bubble of happiness and light on their ship.

Soon enough, most of the crew has finished their dinner and set the plates on the dish tray near the kitchen door. Returned to their seats, they take the chance to unwind and drink after a long day of sailing. A few of the men lead others in short sea shanties, songs, and stories, while others tell jokes or gossip. Some of them silently continue to watch over the trio in the corner. One of them, stupidly braver than the others, calls out.

“Oi,” he says in a thick cockney accent, “Cap’n, why not let your princess sing us summit?”

The captain doesn’t turn, just tilts his head in a way that lets the rest of the room see the dangerous curve of his smile. “I’d rather appreciate it if you lot left us well enough alone instead,” he says, his tone as sharp as the sheathed sword at his hip.

Louis faces him, reaching up to cup both hands around one of Harry’s shoulders. He tugs a bit. “Oh come, on,” he whines, “We didn’t come here to be alone—could’ve done that in the cabin. You promised we’d socialize.”

Michael watches them with a forced grin. “Yeah, Captain,” he purrs, placing a daring hand on the curve of Louis’ waist. Harry snarls at him over Louis’ head, “You promised.”

Pushing back from the table, Harry growls at them as he stalks out of the room, “Have fun, then.” The door slams shut behind him.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room and Louis watches the door with a sad look. Until, “Nice going, asshole,” someone hisses, elbowing the man who spoke up in the side. The rest of the men start to jeer, slapping the man across the head in jest. Soon enough, they’ve gone back to talking and singing. Louis sits alone with Michael now, lip almost chewed raw between his teeth.

Sighing, Michael reaches up and thumbs at his lip until Louis releases it and looks at him with wide eyes. “Do you want to go?” he asks.

Louis hums quietly and glances around them at the tables filled with strangers, rubbing his fingers together. “Do you?” He looks up at Michael through his lashes.

The man shakes his head. “It’s not up to me,” he says. Rubbing a comforting hand down the length of Louis’s arm, Michael reaches for his hand and tangles their fingers together, “Do _you_ want to stay here or do you want to go find the captain?”

“I—“ Louis hesitates, looking around the room before glancing at the door. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach up and bite at his nails. His eyes do another round before landing back on Michael, “I have to go to him.”

“Do you want me to come?” He watches Louis push back from the table but makes no move to get up. When Louis reaches out, he takes the offered hand and presses his knuckles to his lips. Relishing in the soft blush it causes, Michael smiles when Louis stutters out a quiet “no, thank you” and lets him go without a fight.

He calls out for another mug of ale when the door swings shut behind Louis retreating form, getting a pitying slap on the back when it’s delivered. Taking a swig, he shudders and shuts his eyes when the intrusive thoughts and memories start to cloud his thoughts.

The noise of the dining room is cut off abruptly as the door swings shut behind him.

Louis leans back against the wall and breathes in the familiar sea-salt scent of the ocean. The sound of the creaking wood and shifting waves beneath them settles him like nothing else. The cool summer night air breathes across his skin, raising goosebumps in its wake and making Louis shiver. He rubs his arms as he pushes away from the wall and walks across the deck toward the helm of the ship.

Stepping away from the ladder, Louis looks around. His gaze locks onto a tall form standing near the side of the ship, the long captain’s coat blowing in the wind. He’s not wearing his hat, the familiar tumble of curls on his head visible. Blowing warm air into his chilled hands, Louis walks forward. “Harry,” he whispers, the name carried on the wind.

Harry turns and watches Louis approach. His face is shuttered and his eyes are even colder than usual, though they thaw slightly when they see Louis. “Louis,” he sighs,drawing a finger down the top rail of the afterdeck, “why are you here?”

Louis doesn’t answer, just keeps getting closer until they stand side and side against the railing. He rests his arms against the polished wood and leans forward, tilting his head up against the salty spray and toward the moon. The comfortable silence wraps around them like a familiar blanket. Harry watches him for a few minutes before turning and mirroring Louis’ position.

“I love it out here,” Louis breaks the silence.

Harry watches him out of the corner of his eye, one side of his mouth quirking up in a pleased smile. “I’m glad,” he says.

Louis continues, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “I wasn’t sure about it at first: the crew, the fighting, _you_.” Harry laughs at that, “But it’s home now.”

“You can’t imagine how happy it makes me to hear you say that, princess.” The nickname is said fondly, the captain’s voice coated in enough warmth to push away the cool night air. Louis shivers anyway.

Tracing a pattern into the wood beneath his arms, Louis licks his lips takes a deep breath, “Why did you leave just now?”

He hears Harry hum, the deep baritone sending small shocks into the base of his spine. Harry slowly reaches out across the top rail and presses their hands together. “I,” he begins, “I am a very possessive person.”

Louis snorts. Ignoring him, Harry continues. “These people, they’re my men but I wouldn’t trust them with you for less than a second. You are that special to me.”

Louis ignores the frantic beating of his heart in his chest. “Then why did you leave me just now?” He can feel sweat gathering in his palms and he fights against the urge to wipe them against his pants.

“You weren’t alone though, were you?” Harry argues, “You had your blacksmith.”

“Well,” Louis stutters, a hot blush settling in the apples of his cheeks, “That’s different.”

“Is it?” Harry says through a tight smile. Louis doesn’t respond. The captain turns back to the ocean. Fish follow their boat, their luminescent scales glittering in the moonlight. The boat’s wake crashes against the side of the ship, sending waves dancing out into the open waters. The seagull that’s made a home in their crow’s nest gives a loud squawk. The silence settles into something more comfortable.

After a few more minutes, Louis speaks again. “I did want to thank you, actually,” he confesses, not looking at Harry, his gaze locked on the barely visible horizon. He clears his throat, “for being there for me when Michael was— you know.”

Harry turns his body in Louis’ direction, big, warm, and inviting as always. “Of course, darling,” he says, “I’ll always be there when you need me.”

Louis sighs and smiles. “I know,” his voice is soft and vulnerable, “You’re my captain.”

“Well,” Harry huffs, lifting a hand to scratch at the small scar by his eyebrow, “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

Louis looks at him then, his face young and unguarded in the moonlight. And Harry can’t help himself. He cups one of his cheeks in his large palm and tilts Louis’ head back, moving around him so that he’s pressing Louis against the balustrade. Leaning in to speak his words against Louis’ mouth, Harry confesses, “I’m in love with you.”

Reflexively, Louis grabs onto the flowing fabric of Harry’s shirt in shock, pulling the man impossibly closer. His eyes widen and he swallows. “Harry,” he gasps, “Wha—what are you saying?”

“I mean what I say,” his voice is firm and true, his eyes clear and bright against the sea, “I love you. But you must know that I’m not the only one.”

Louis pales, “What?”

“Your boy,” he chuckles and nods towards the dining hall, “The blacksmith, just about rivals me in terms of affection for you.”

Louis feels himself flush and shakes his head. “That’s— he’s not, it’s not like that,” he tries to deny it, thinking back to all the time he’s spent with Michael aboard the ship.His protests trailed off, “We’re not…”

“There it is,” Harry remarks through a bitter smile, “Listen to me, dove.”

Louis looks up at him with confused eyes, lower lip wobbling, “What do I do, Harry?”

Harry lets his fingers trail down the soft skin of Louis’ cheek, traveling down until he can curl his hand around the nape of his neck. “What do you want to do, Louis?” He presses him, “You know what I want. It’s up to you, princess.”

A tear falls and lands in the sheer white cotton of Louis’ tunic. “I want what you want,” Louis confesses, reaching back and holding onto Harry’s wrist. His grip is desperate and shaking, “But I also want…”

Eyes slipping shut, Harry presses his lips together. He takes a deep, steadying breath through his nose and lets it out slowly before his eyes flutter open. “Alright, darling,” hesays softly, pinching a soft lock of Louis’ hair between his fingers, “then that’s how we’ll do it.”

“What?” Louis blinks up at him innocently.

“If you want the both of us,” Harry explains, “Then you’ll have both of us.”

He doesn’t allow Louis the chance to respond, leaning in and sealing their lips together in a sweet kiss. Their lips move together softly, the tender emotions of the night pouring through the kiss. Louis feels himself tear up and he reaches both hands up to twist in the fabric of Harry’s shirt. A whimper breaks through his lips when a long leg wedges itself between his own. Large hands tug at his hair and shirt, pulling the collar down and giving Harry access to his unmarked neck.

Harry groans at the sound. “Fuck, princess,” he kisses the words into the skin of Louis’ throat, “I’ll give you anything you want. Just ask me, baby. I’ll give you the world.”

Louis gasps when Harry nips at his collarbones. “Just this,” he pants, “just want this.”

Harry presses his hand to the back of Louis’ thighs and hoists him up to sit on the top of the ship’s wall, stepping in between his thighs and pressing a secure hand to the small of his back as he does. He digs his fingers into the meat of Louis’ thigh and tucks his thumb into the waistband of Louis’ trousers. “Can I fuck you, baby?” he says against his lips, “Fuck, forget everyone else and just feel me right now.”

Louis bites his lip and twirls his fingers through the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck, “Yes,” he whines.

“You’ll have to be quiet, baby.” Harry pulls him off of the top of the wall and turns him over to bend him across the surface instead. Pulling down the loose fabric of Louis’ trousers, he presses his hips forward and rubs his clothed bulge against Louis’ ass. “Can’t let anyone know what we’re doing up here, hm?”

Louis arches himself and presses back against the pressure with a small moan, “Harry,” he gasps, “I don’t know if I can—“

Harry shushes him and pets a hand down the length of his back, ending with his hand curved around the cheek of Louis’ round ass. His thumb presses teasingly against the rim of his hole, “If you need some help, tap against my arm twice, alright?”

Louis nods and hides his head in his arms on the balustrade. He bites back a whine when Harry presses his thumb deeper into him, his rim greedy and opening up easily for it. He breathes a curse into the wood and feels Harry shift behind him. The rustling sound of cloth and the sudden slap of hot and hard skin against his back has Louis rolling his hips back against Harry’s body.

The warmth of his thighs pressing against Louis’ ass has him biting his lip. He reaches back and grabs at Harry’s arm, pulling it forward so that he’s holding onto the balustrade. Harry follows his lead and presses his other hand to Louis’ other side. His body is pressing against Louis’ now, the warmth of his chest melting into Louis’ back through their shirts.

The finger against his rim never lets up, only leaving just to come back wetter and slicker than before. Louis whimpers into his arm when Harry adds another finger and begins to spread them apart inside. “Quiet,” Harry reminds him in a deep, rumbling voice. It sends shivers down Louis’ spine and makes him push back against the fingers in his ass.

Louis nods and bites back another moan. He throws his head back and lets his mouth drop open on a silent groan when Harry adds another finger for a second before pulling them out. Throat exposed, Louis watches through heavy-lidded eyes as Harry brings his fingers to his lips and wets them with his tongue. His eyes are heavy and intense, looking directly into Louis’ as he coats his fingers in saliva. Louis feels his cock throb at the sight.

The burn in the pit of his stomach burns brighter when Harry presses his fingers inside again. Pressing in closer again, Harry bends over Louis’ arched form and presses his lips to Louis’ ear. “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he mutters, “You’d do anything, don’t care who sees you as long as you get my cock.”

Louis nods wildly and sighs audibly when he feels the blunt head of Harry’s cock press at his entrance. “Mmm,” he whimpers as his hole is stretched and filled. Pressing the tip of his tongue against his palate, Louis closes his eyes and breathes in through his mouth, “ _Yeah_. Fuck, you’re so big.”

Hips pressed firmly to Louis’ arse, Harry lets out something close to a growl. He pulls out until just the tip of his cock is enveloped in the warmth of Louis’ body and stills. Louis whines and shifts, trying to press back against Harry’s body. Large and calloused hands wrap around his waist, stopping his movement. Louis lets out a quiet, frustrated sound as his hands curl around the railing, nails digging into the polished wood.

Harry curls around him, one hand reaching out to finger at the loose coil of rope tied to the ship. His cock inches in a bit deeper. He hums thoughtfully, the sound deep and rough, coming from the base of his chest. "Should tie you up," he grunts, "make sure you can never get too far away from me." 

Louis feels his abdomen clench with want, his eyes flickering briefly to the rough rope. Harry chuckles softly beneath his breath but makes no further move. Louis looks over his shoulder at him with a pout, swinging his hips from side to side slightly. He freezes when he hears the door to the hull of the ship slam open, ricocheting against the wooden slats of the ship. Breath caught in his chest, Louis almost chokes on a gasp when Harry begins to press back in.

“Quiet,” Harry reminds him, his body warm and heavy over Louis’ trembling form. “Unless you want them to hear.”

His hands tighten their hold on his waist and he pulls Louis back against him, sheathing his cock within the melting heat of his body all at once. Louis lets out a small “ _Ah!_ ” before he claps a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

Harry chuckles darkly, hips moving slowly. Some of the crew walks out onto the deck, making their way down to the edge of the ship where a table is set up for dice games. There’s only three of them, their stout figures backlit by the lowlight candles set up on the railings. They laugh loudly and talk merrily, joy momentarily fuelled by whiskey and food. Louis feels his nose burn and his eyes start to water.

“Harry,” he whispers desperately, pushing his hips back against him. “Hurry, _please_.”

They’re at the back of the ship, covered by the shadowy cloak of night. No one should see them from where they currently stand but Louis knows that if you stand far enough, the tip of Harry’s hat is visible from even the fore of the ship. Not to mention the small sounds that Harry is fucking out of him. Every gasp and whimper sets his veins alight, the risk of getting caught constantly buzzing at the back of his head.

He jolts forward, buddy convulsing when Harry’s cock hits him in just the right spot. His body thrums with pleasure and his cock jumps, a thread of pre-come leaking freely from the tip. “Mmm!” He presses his lips together, muffling the high sounds threatening to break free.

Louis reaches back, curling his hand around the back of Harry’s neck. He arches back and tilts his head, letting it fall against the broad shoulder behind him. Bouncing his hips back, Louis bites his finger. Harry trails his fingers down his exposed stomach, pausing at the bottom and pressing a hand against it.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “You’re so fucking small. I can feel my cock inside you.”

Louis lets go of his finger to press his hand against Harry’s. The rest of the ship fades away and he feels a full-body shiver pass through him when he learns that Harry is right. Holding his palm against his tummy, he can feel the bulge of Harry’s cock inside of him pushing against his stomach. “Oh, my God,” he whimpers.

“So fucking sexy,” Harry growls into his ear. His voice is even deeper like this, raspy and rough as he whispers to stay quiet. “Take me so well, Lou. Like you’re made just for me.”

“Yeah,” Louis gasps, biting back a desperate shout when Harry wraps his hand around his cock. It covers it entirely, the head peeking out on every downstroke. His knees buckle when Harry swipes his thumb through the wetness gathered there. “I’m yours, Harry. Please, _fuck_ , I want to come.”

Brushing his long hair to the side and exposing the milky white skin, Harry licks the nape of his neck. “You’re so wet, darling,” the captain teases him, “All because of me. Because of my cock. Come for me.”

Louis opens his mouth on a silent scream, the sound getting caught in his throat as his vision whites out. Harry milks him through it, hips and hand never stopping. Louis whimpers after a bit, body sensitive and overstimulated. Harry lets go of his cock to press down on his lower back instead, until Louis is bent over at the waist, arms crossed on the railing. Body lax with pleasure, Louis hums as he starts to pick up his thrusts again.

“Harry,” Louis hums. When Harry grunts back, Louis smiles out at the ocean, eyes drooping. “I love you.”

Hips stuttering, Harry tightens his grip around Louis’ hips, fingers digging in and no doubt leaving bruising fingerprints. “Fuck, Louis,” he hisses.

Warmth suddenly fills him and Louis shivers at the sensation. He can feelHarry’s cock pulse inside of him and he rocks back as Harry grinds against him. He blindly reaches back, sighing happily when Harry tangles their hands together. He winces when Harry pulls back and his seed immediately starts to leak out of him, coating the inside of his thigh.

Straightening up, Louis turns in Harry’s hold and throws his arms around the captain’s neck. He rises up to his tiptoes and presses a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. “Love you,” he mumbles, “Take me to bed, please.”

Harry chuckles and wraps a supportive arm around his waist, “As you wish, princess.”

They quietly dress and make their way down the steps, opening and closing the door to the captain’s quarters behind them without incident. Resting back against the wooden door, Louis listens as the men on the deck begin to argue about their dice game. By the sound of it, most of the crew is now done with dinner and making their way either up to the deck or down below to the barracks.

Biting his lip, Louis looks up at Harry and flushes when he notices the man is already looking down at him. Placing one finger to his lips, Louis says, “Our little secret?”

They burst out into laughter.

☾

It’s a few days before Louis sees Michael again.

Every hour that passes drives Louis madder and madder. He frowns when he thinks about the fact that Michael is avoiding him. It’s obvious when he thinks about it. Like the time he could have sworn that Michael had gone around a corner, but when he turned it, he was alone in the hallway. And the time that Louis had snuck into the kitchen for a late-night snack alone, half of him missing as he thought of Michael. He jumped when he heard the door to the dining hall close, but the familiar humming had his heart pounding.

“Michael,” he breathed. There was no response. The dining hall door slammed shut again and Louis was well and truly alone in the scullery, only the rare mouse keeping him company.

Now he’s angry.

He’s standing beside Harry at the helm of the ship, carefully scanning everybody on the deck. Harry’s got an arm loosely wrapped around Louis’ waist as they stand together behind the wheel. Louis grumbles when Michael fails to show up to his morning shift on deck. “That coward,” he hisses.

Harry leans forward to rest his chin on top of Louis’ head. “Don’t worry about it too much, doll. You’ll see him tonight,” he lets out a quiet laugh, “He has to sleep sometime.”

Louis feels himself calm down as Harry rubs soothing circles on his stomach, the weight and breadth of his body behind him a comforting weight. “You’re right,” Louis breathes, letting himself fall back further into the captain’s hold.

After a bit, Louis turns on his heel and presses his face into the dip between Harry’s pecs. He wraps his arms around his waist and hums happily. Harry’s arms easily wrap around him to reach the wheel when he needs to, but he’s otherwise happy to simply hold onto his boy. “Love you,” Louis mouths the words against his chest, letting his lips linger on sun-warmed skin.

Harry hides a smile in the crown of his head. “I love you, too,” he whispers the words between them.

Louis finds Michael in the barracks late that night, long after the other men have fallen asleep.

Louis sneaks into the room, carefully shutting the door behind him without noise. He tiptoes across the room, carefully to avoid the creaky wooden slats and the bags of personal effects left lying around the room. Eventually, he comes up beside Michael’s resting form and crosses his arms as he looks down at him. He fights against the overwhelming urge to lean over and press a kiss against the man’s full lips. Instead, he reaches out and slaps his shoulder.

Michael opens one eye. “Fuck,” he grunts. Louis cocks a hip and looks down at him with a raised eyebrow. Letting out a deep sigh, Michael rubs a finger against his eye and easily swings down from the hammock, “Right. Come on, then.”

He leads Louis out of the room and towards the familiar hallway that leads to the scullery. They make their way through the empty hold, the strong ocean wind howling loud and alive through the gaps between the ship’s wooden walls. Shivering, Louis presses in closer to Michael as they walk.

They reach the door to the dining hall, the door unlocked as always. When Michael begins the usual path toward the kitchen, however, Louis reaches out and tangles their fingers together. Michael stops walking and turns to look down at him. “Can we talk in here?” Louis asks quietly, the silence of the usually boisterous room almost louder than the wind.

Michael nods and Louis leads him over to one of the tables in the corner of the room. He settles into the bench against the wall, staring down a nervous Michael sitting straight and awkward in his seat in front of him. They’re still holding hands.

Louis lets out a soft breath and tightens his hold on Michael’s fingers. “What’s going on?”

Michael’s shoulders tense slightly and he shrugs, not bothering to say anything. Louis feels his jaw tighten at the deliberate nonchalance of the action. Letting go of Michael’s hand, Louis leans forward to straddle the bench and presses both of his hands flat on the wood between his open legs. “What’s _going on_ , Michael?" He pushes the question.

When no answer comes, he raises himself onto his knees and crawls closer on all fours. “Why are you ignoring me, then?” he tries.

“Baby,” Michael sighs, shielding his eyes with his hands, “I just need you to trust me.”

Louis growls and reaches out to grab at Michael’s shirt, pulling him in and almost knocking their heads against each other. “Not if it means I have to lose my best friend,” he snarls, “Not if it means losing the man I love.”

Michael chokes on a breath and whips his head around to look at him. His eyes are wild and _angry_. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hisses, “You made your choice that night. The man you love is out _there_.” He points to the door leading out to the rest of the ship.

“ _What_ ,” Louis gasps and blinks away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, “What are you talking about?”

Michael looks away again with a look of barely-restrained anger. “I heard you,” he confesses, “that night. You were with him on the afterdeck. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.”

Louis gapes at him as Michael shakes his head and scoffs, “‘Nothing serious’ my ass, Louis. You were already in love with him, back then,” he clenches his fists in his lap, “I was just a fucking fool not to see it.”

“Well you are one,” Louis says bluntly, “A big fucking fool. The biggest, fooliest fool there ever was.”

Michael purses his lips and tries to hold himself back from stalking out of the room and never turning back. Louis keeps talking, “If you can’t see how in love with you I am, then you absolutely deserve the title.”

He shuts his eyes and sighs. “Louis,” he says through gritted teeth, “I heard you—“

A small hand cups his cheeks and easily turns his head. Eyes still shut, Michael jumps slightly when warm lips press themselves against his. Fingers run through Michael's short hair and a whimper vibrates against his lips when Michael pushes into the kiss, forcing the lips beneath his open and letting his tongue curl into Louis’ mouth. Their shared breaths are hot and heavy as the kiss deepens.

Michael wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pushes him back to lie back against the wall. His legs spread easily to give Michael room as he presses forward into Louis’ space. Another whine escapes between his lips, a high and breathy “ _Michael_.”

Forcing himself to pull away, he rests their foreheads together and looks into Louis’ eyes. The blue is warm and slightly glazed over, but so full of love that Michael feels his heartbreak and then immediately stitch itself back together around that one look. “Lou,” the name rides his exhale desperately, “I know what I heard that night.”

Louis bites his lip, the tender skin already raw and broken. “Harry said,” he swallows,“he said that we could all be together. He said that I could have both of you.”

Michael sighs and lets his head fall. “Louis,” he sighs, “You are so special, baby.”

Louis giggles nervously, “What does that mean?”

Brushes his fingers through Louis’ fringe, Michael presses a firm kiss to the middle of his forehead. “It means that I wanted to confess first,” a small smile breaks across his face, and Louis’ thighs tighten around him, “was preparing a speech and everything.”

A soft look falls over Louis’ face and he smiles happily. “Really?” Crinkles appear in the corners of his eyes, “This is really okay, then? You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Michael asks him.

Pressing his fists to his cheeks, Louis blushes and shrugs. “Maybe I’m being selfish,” he mumbles around his thumb.

“Anything you want, baby,” Michael swears with a kiss to his lips, “I will give you.”

Louis brightens up, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous light. “ _Anything?_ ” he breathes.

Michael groans but nods. He’s only slightly surprised when Louis pushes against his chest to reverse their positions, settling himself above Michael and straddling his thighs.He presses a small hand to the middle of Michael’s chest and flexes his fingers before forming a fist over his heart. “Tell me what happened on the ship,” he demands and then clarifies, “Davy Jones’ ship.”

The feeling of cold water floods his chest at the memory and his breathing speeds up slightly. “Baby,” Michael pleads, holding onto Louis’ hips with stiff hands, “I can’t tell you. Not that. Anything but.”

Shaking his head, Louis leans in to press their chests together. “Michael,” he gasps, “I’m sorry. Oh, I shouldn’t have asked. I’m so sorry. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

He wraps his arms around Michael’s neck and pulls him into a tight hug. He presses a kiss to the side of his head and continues to whisper reassurances into his ear until Michael is breathing normally again, the shuddering gasps and shakes leaving him. The man drops his head into the curve of Louis’ neck and sighs. “Trust me,” Michael whispers, “I would never have you know what happened on that ship. The fact that you had to see my weakness alone is almost too much for me to bear.”

Louis pulls slightly back for a second to lock eyes with him, the look in his genuine and serious. “Don’t apologize for being human,” he says, grabbing onto Michael’s hand and holding it against his chest, “You are so strong, Michael.”

“I love you,” it just comes out. He’d prepared an entire speech about their past and the journey they’ve been on together over the past year and it’s just come out like nothing. Michael mourns the moment that could have been.

The smile that lights up Louis’ face makes it all worth it, though. His eyes disappear behind his lashes as the smile lights up his entire face and he pushes Michael down so that he’s lying flat on his back on the bench. “I love you!” he shouts happily before surging forward.

Michael groans into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and pulling him closer. “I wanted to tell you about the time I saw you with your sisters in town,” he mumbles against his lips, “about how I wanted to pull you aside and kiss you in front of everyone. Confess early before I could ask your father for permission to court you. I’ve thought about you for years now.”

Louis laughs freely, his body squirming happily above Michael. He runs a hand down the ridges of muscle that line Michael’s stomach, stopping at the belt of his pants and smirking when he feels his hips twitch. “I would have let you,” Louis confesses between long and drawn-out kisses.

Straightening up to sit properly astride the man beneath him, Louis gropes behind him until he finds the hardness pressed against his ass. He slides his fingers into the fabric and along the impressive length before wrapping his hand around Michael’s cock and stroking it a few times. He circles his hips on top of him and lets go, pressing his palms to Michael’s chest instead.

He squeals when Michael reaches both hands around him to squeeze greedily at the plump flesh of his ass. He rocks their hips together once, twice, gasps, and bites down hard on his bottom lip. His eyes squeeze shut as he grinds down again, the thickness of Michael’s hard cock pressing _just right_ against him. Whimpering, Louis reaches out blindly to grab at Michael’s hand. He brings it up to his lips and sucks a few fingers into his mouth, tongue laving and drool coating his chin. “Michael,” he gasps, “ _love you_.”

Michael growls and thrusts his fingers forward, enjoying the wet heat around them as he fucks up against the pressure of Louis’ body against his cock. They move together, bodies thrusting and grinding until finally, _finally_ Louis lets out a choked sound and comes. His hips lose their rhythm and he grinds wildly against the pressure of Michael’s cock, effectively sending the other man over the edge.

“Fuck,” he pants, reaching up to wrap an arm around Louis’ shaking form, “Y’alright Louis?”

Louis whines, a soft _mhmm_. Michael nods and they sit there in silence for a few minutes until Michael sits up, manhandling Louis so that he’s sitting comfortably in his lap. “D’you want to go back to the barracks, babe?” he asks.

Louis presses his face to the sticky skin of Michael’s throat and shakes his head minutely. Michael sighs and readies himself for the trip. He wraps his arms around Louis’ thighs and back and stands easily. The walk to the captain’s quarters is short and quiet, Louis’ soft breathing evening out in small puffs against his neck.

When they reach the door, he unwraps his arm from around Louis’ back and knocks lightly. It opens after only a few seconds, revealing a shirtless and restless Harry.

He looks Michael up and down before focusing on the precious boy in his arms. It’s only then that his look softens and he holds out his arms, easily taking Louis from the blacksmith without a word and bringing him to the unmade bed built into the wall. He leaves the door open behind him.

Watching him gently tuck Louis into the sheets, Michael steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

☾

Standing at the head of the ship, Louis smiles up to the sky. His hair blows gently in the wind and the salty spray of the sea soaks his shirt, the fabric clinging to his skin. The up and down motion of the boat as she rides the cresting waves of the ocean makes his stomach swoop and Louis lets out a surprised shriek when the ship suddenly dips down toward the water. Giggles erupt from his lips when they straighten out once more. The men behind him call out warnings.

“Get’yeself away from that edge, boy,” someone calls out to him, “Your captain won’t be too ‘appy.”

Louis waves a hand over his shoulder, not taking notice of the other men. He’s focused on the adrenaline pumping through his veins as the ship crosses the sea. A pair of dolphins fly out of the water a couple of hundred feet away. Another few follow and soon enough, there’s an entire pod of dolphins swimming alongside the ship. They call out to Louis in happy, yipping sounds and he answers back with a happy yell and another wave.

They swim with the ship for a bit before breaking off. The sunbeams brightly and a couple of clouds drift slowly across the sky. Louis sighs and spins on his heels to lean back against the bow of the ship, his eyes catching on the violently sweeping sails. There’s a shadowed figure silhouetted behind the white of the sails, perched on one of the mainyards that hold the sailcloth. 

Right away, Louis smiles at the familiar breadth and sway of the figure's shoulders, the practice movement of their feet along with the rig. His breath catches when Michael catches one of the ropes and pulls its free, dropping from the beam and swinging across the ship. He lands skillfully at the bottom of the mast, letting the rope go and marching toward Louis at the fore. His tanned skin almost glitters in the harsh sunlight as he marches across the deck towards him.

A quick glance at the helm shows Harry looking intently in their direction. Michael’s made his way to Louis by now and he carefully curves an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. “You seem to be enjoying yourself,” he says with a smirk.

Louis rests his hands on Michael’s chest as the man tilts him back, the upper part of his body hovering over the bowsprit. His grin is fiendish and wicked when he replies, “Was thinking about taking a dip.”

Michael’s hold on his tightens before he pulls Louis back up toward him, “Captain says there’s a storm coming soon,” Michael tells him, “Besides, I doubt he’s planning on letting you off his ship any time soon.”

Louis shoots a glare over his shoulder toward Harry. The captain has turned away from them to speak with his navigator, a short and portly man with small pince-nez spectacles. Rolling his eyes and spinning on his heel to look out at the endless expanse of water around them, Louis purses his lips and cocks a hip. “What does he know?” A blush starts to creep across his cheeks when Michael plasters himself against Louis’ back, “He’s not some weather god. He’s just a pirate.”

He feels more than hears Michael chuckle, “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

Louis fails to hold back a smile. “Please, I bet he’d _love_ to hear that,” he fights back the urge to turn to look at the aft of the ship where he knows Harry stands watching them, “A good enough excuse as any to spank me.”

The body behind him stiffens. Louis lets his head fall back and bites his lip when he feels Michael’s cock give the smallest twitch against the curve of his ass. “Fuck, Louis,” he groans, “not here, baby.”

Stepping out of Michael’s hold, Louis leans over the balustrade. “Alright,” he says easily, “not here.”

The frustrated sound that Michael makes brings a full smile to his lips and he laughs, swaying his hips from side to side teasingly. “ _Michael_ ,” he moans softly.

A warm hand finds the curve of his hip and Louis looks over his shoulder, eyes widening when they see whose hand it is. Michael has disappeared. Instead, Harry smirks at him from underneath the brim of his hat. “Having fun without me, princess?” he growls.

Placing the tips of his fingers to his chest, Louis scoffs, “Never!”

Harry hums before wrapping a hand around Louis’ wrist and pulling away from the edge of the ship. Despite tumbling a few steps, Louis comes easily and his heart picks up in his chest when he sees the dominant glint in the captain’s eyes. Making a split-second decision, Louis digs his heels into the wood of the deck and pulls against the tight hold around his wrist. “Wait!” he yells, catching the attention of most of the crew on deck, “I wanted to go swimming!”

“You can go swimming when we’ve docked,” Harry promises him, “Shouldn’t be more than another week at most.”

Louis stops fighting against his grip, going slack instead and letting Harry manhandle him across the deck. Tired of his games, Harry spins on his heels and wraps an arm around Louis’ knees, and hoists him into a bridal carry. Eyes wide, Louis circles his neck and holds tight. “Promise?” He pouts up at him, blinking sweetly.

Reaching the ladder that leads to the back of the ship, Harry lets Louis’ legs go. Gracefully falling to his feet, Louis climbs the ladder first, making sure to sway his hips as he does. A sudden swat to his ass has him cackling happily. Harry leads him to the wheel, grabbing hold of the rungs and keeping them on track.

“I promise, princess,” he says, kissing the tip of Louis’ nose, “There’s a storm coming so stay with me.”

Scrunching up his face, Louis continues to pout up at him. “Kiss,” he demands.

Harry’s lip quirks up and he glances at the boy from the side. “I just gave you one,” he says. Louis shakes his head no and bounces on the tips of his toes, wrapping a hand around Harry’s bicep and trying to pull him closer. Turning his head to look down at the boy, Harry smiles wryly, “You’re so spoiled, do you know that?”

He leans in and presses their lips together in a sweeter kiss, smiling into it when Louis mumbles, “I know,” against his lips. Pulling away, Louis licks his lips and smiles up at him, his face flush and eyes bright. Harry gives him another quick peck before turning back to watch the horizon. Louis settles up against him, cheek pressed against his chest. The steady _thump, thump, thump_ of his heart pays like a record in his ear. 

Some time later, Louis’ eyes slowly flutter open. He rubs a knuckle against his eye and yawns, looking up and seeing Harry smiling down at him. “Good sleep?” He asks.

Louis makes an unintelligible sound and nods, pushing his shoulders back and stretching his arms above his head. “How long was I asleep?”

“I’d say about thirty minutes,” Harry shrugs. He looks back at the sea behind them and chews on his lip for a second before turning to look at Louis, “Storm’s coming in quick behind us. I want you to go back to my room. Take Michael if you have to.”

“Fine,” Louis says, a little angry at being dismissed. He jumps down from the stern of the ship and walks out across the deck, feeling Harry’s eyes on his back the entire time. Swaying his hips a bit more than usual, Louis smiles when he sees Michael working with a few other crewmates in the corner. Making his way over, Louis warps his arms around Michael’s back and leans against him.

Despite stiffening up in surprise, Michael’s body quickly relaxes at the familiar feel of Louis’s body. He reaches back and runs a hand through soft hair. “What’s going on, baby?” he asks.

“Harry wants me off of the deck before the storm hits,” Louis makes sure to pout extra hard. He knows he succeeds when Michael pushes away from the table and waves goodbye to the other men, pulling Louis away with him, “I just want to play a little more.”

“Baby,” Michael sighs, running a hand across the top of his head, “It’s safer in the cabin. Maybe when the rain lets up a bit, then we can ask the captain.”

Louis tilts his head and considers the offer, humming and tapping his chin. “Fine,” he agrees, skipping off toward the captain’s quarters. He blows a kiss in Harry’s direction as he passes, shaking his ass a bit. He laughs when his grip on the wheel noticeably tightens, his knuckles turning white around the wooden dowel.

Michael follows close behind and sighs at his antics, closing the door behind him as they walk in. The rain immediately begins to pound against the wooden frame of the ship, the sound sharp and ringing as it hits the small window. Louis pulls out a chair and slumps into it, hiding his face in his arms on the table. “I’m _bored_ ,” he sighs.

“It’s been thirty seconds,” Michael laughs, sitting in the chair across from Louis. He reaches out and tangles their fingers together on the table. Louis rests his cheek on his arm and glances over his other arm to look at Michael. He shakes his fringe out of his eyes and wiggles his fingers in Michael’s grip, giggling when he taps at the tips of his fingers to get him to stop. “How do you want to entertain yourself, then?”

Louis bites his lip and curls his fingers closed over Michael’s hand before standing and making his way slowly around the table. Michael watches with dark eyes as Louis lowers himself onto his lap and wraps an arm around his neck. Michael’s arm reflexively curls around Louis’ waist, his hand playing with the hem of his blouse. Warm fingertips press into the skin of his waist and send quick zaps of electricity up his spine. Louis licks his lips and leans forward to rest his chin on Michael’s shoulder. “I can think of a few things,” he whispers into his ear.

The grip around his waist tightens and Michael lets out a shaky breath, “Like what?”

Louis hums and traces a random pattern in the recently cut hair at the back of Michael’s head. Sitting up, Louis tilts his head innocently, “Swimming?”

Before Michael can even react, Louis jumps off of him and bounds through the room and out the door, leaving it open behind him. Rain crashes into the room and the door bounces off the wall violently with the force of the wind outside. Eyes wide and unbelieving, Michael stands alone in the middle of the room. “Louis?” He calls out to no one, “ _Fuck_.”

He races out after his troublemaker. Louis is running across the deck, looking back at Michael with a giddy, hysterical grin like he can’t believe he’s just done that. Michael can’t quite believe it either. “Louis!” He tries to shout over the howling wind. He vaguely hears Harry across the ship shouting similarly.

Louis ignores them, jumping when he reaches the edge of the ship. He leans over the balustrade and looks into the ocean. The waves are angry and violent, crashing into the side of the ship with each deep roll. The wind screams around him and the cold rain batters his skin. Turning his back to the waters, Louis catches Michael’s eye and waves at him. “See?” He tries to say over the storm, “I’m fine!”

Louis presses his palms to the polished wood and lifts himself to sit on the thick railing. Michael surges forward, slipping slightly on the wet deck before catching himself and making his way over. Louis giggles and rocks his feet back and forth. Breaking eye contact with Michael, Louis looks over in Harry’s direction and sticks his tongue out. He ignores Harry’s shouts and leans back against his palms.

His stomach swoops dangerously when his hands slip out from underneath him. His view dips until he loses sight of the deck and faces the grey sky instead. Louis doesn’t even realize he’s falling from the ship until he hits the ocean surface with a hard crack against his back. His breath is knocked cleanly from his lungs and Louis gasps as he’s submerged underwater.

A wave crashes over his head, and then another until Louis is deep underneath the surface. He’s pushed and rolled by the current, his head pounding and his lungs burning with the lack of oxygen. Trying to orient himself, Louis opens his eyes against the stinging salt and kicks upwards. The water is dark and there’s no light to tell him whether or not he’s doing in the right direction.

Desperate for air, Louis kicks his feet faster and waves his arms. The surface doesn’t come. There’s a fire building in his chest and Louis can’t hold it anymore, he opens his mouth on a gasping breath and chokes when water fills his throat.

And then it leaves his throat. And the burn in his chest disappears. His head still pounds. The darkness begins to retreat and Louis can see sharp shapes of algae and small fish swimming around him. He sees the large distinct shape of the ship’s hull. Eyes wide with fright, Louis continues to swim toward the ship. He cuts easily through the water now, the movements coming naturally.

The water breaks into a thousand tiny bubbles as a body jumps in. Louis stops swimming when he notices Michaels fighting against the salty sting of water. Making his way over, Louis wraps his arms around Michael’s neck to pull him in close. Blinking against the water, Michael flails around for a bit before he recognizes Louis's blurry form.

The grip around his neck pulls him deeper under and Michael begins to thrash. Louis doesn’t notice, too happy to see Michael. There’s a small voice in the back of his head, an unintelligible whisper scratching at his skull that Louis can’t quite shake off. Louis licks his lips and curves a hand around Michaels’ cheek.

Still pulling against the hold around his neck, Michael freezes when Louis’ form gets close enough to clear up in the water. Familiar sharp angles and long, flowing hair that dances underwater. His skin seems to glow, a halo of iridescence coming from within. He’s beautiful, as always.

Michael lets out a reverent breath.

Water immediately fills his throat as he tries to take it back. Choking, Michael shuts his eyes against the salt. The connection breaks and he begins to push upwards again, pulling Louis with him as he swims. He finds the cold metal chain attached to the anchor and follows it to the side of the ship.

They break the surface together, Michael coughing and choking up water. Louis stays mostly underwater, only his eyes and hair peeking up from beneath the waves. The water has calmed down and the storm has passed, only a light drizzle remaining in its destructive wake. “Fuck,” Michael curses, looking down at Louis who watches him with careful, detached eyes. He takes a minute to breathe before calling out to the crew on deck to send a ladder down.

When he pulls Louis and himself over the edge of the ship, the boy in his arms has gone unconscious. He lays him down on the deck and listens carefully for a heartbeat. He finds it easily, the beat strong and regular. Comforted by the sound, Michael lets himself flop over onto the deck beside Louis.

Harry watches anxiously nearby, chewing on the edge of a fingernail.

☾

Louis is standing around with a few of the other cremates on the deck when the captain’s quarters’ door flies open, the polished wood smacking loudly against the wood of the ship before bouncing back.

Harry stomps out of the room surrounded by a dark cloud of frustration. Louis can clearly see the frown lines on his cheeks and the furrow between his brows. Apparently so do the other men as they back away the closer he gets, making an open pathway to the center of the deck where he stops. He spins in a semi-circle until his eyes find their target.

“Blacksmith!” He calls out. Louis feels his breath catch in his throat. The men on the deck start whispering to each other, a ring of people starting to form around the captain. The buzzing sound of clever quips and whistles start up when Michael moves forward, a cocky smirk on his lips. Harry tilts his head both ways, cracking his neck. He throws a cutlass across the deck, a muscle twitching in his cheek when Michael catches the blade easily, “Hope you got enough practice on that ghost ship.”

Face tense, Michael shrugs then lets the handle of the sword hang loosely from his fingertips. Flicking his wrist, the cutlass spins in a graceful arc spinning twice from the tip of his finger before it’s locked firmly in his grip once more. Michael bares his teeth in a mocking grin. “Don’t you worry, Captain,” he says, “I haven’t lost my touch.”

Harry scoffs, “Remind me how many times you’ve bested me in a sword fight?”

One of the cremates lifts a hand. “Sixteen times, sir.”

Nodding, Harry waves his hand holding his rapier, twirling the handle in his hand and letting the blade cut through the air a few times similar to the way Michael had done only moments prior before tightening his grip again and settling into a comfortable fighting stance, “Out of how many, Grimace?”

The same cremate looks upwards for a few seconds, as though counting in his head, “One hundred and twenty-four, Captain.”

Harry shrugs his shoulders as if to say _I told you so_. Louis sees Michael’s jaw clench as he lowers himself into a mirrored stance, holding his cutlass out in front of him. His lip curls up in a snarl and he takes a step forward, Harry taking a matching step back. “Now, wait a second,” Harry smirks, parrying to avoid a sudden thrust, “We haven’t yet made a wager.”

“Usual bet?” Michael asks, pushing forward without pausing, “I’d rather not waste time on semantics.”

Harry glances over in Louis’ direction for only a second before focusing back on Michael’s quick advance, taking a few steps to the left to avoid his strikes. He raises his sword and catches Michael’s sword in its downward arc, letting it slide cleanly off the edge of his own sword. “Very well,” he says easily, “I agree to those terms.”

Michael throws Louis a glance of his own. He raises an eyebrow and clicks his tongue as he turns back to Harry. He takes a step back and throws his sword up to guard against Harry’s slash. “Are you sure,” Michael says through grunts, “that it was only sixteen?”

Harry furrows his brow and moves back into a defensive position, dancing out of Michael’s sword’s range. He holds up a hand and counts on his fingers. “I may not be the brightest candle, good sir,” he gives a dirty grin, “But I clearly remember every time you’ve stolen my treasure from me.”

“Stolen?” Michael repeats in an unbelieving tone. He shuffles forward a few meters with his sword held out in front of him. “How is it that when you win the terms are fair, but when I win, it’s theft? Something about that seems quite unfair to me.”

Louis holds his hands to his mouth as Harry brings his sword up in a wide downward arc, grazing Michael’s shoulder. The blade cuts into the wooden deck, lodging itself a few centimetres deep. He pulls it out easily, holding it diagonally in front of his chest to guard. “Well,” he huffs, “when you’ve had that boy desperate and begging on his knees in front of you with your leaking prick in his mouth, then get back to me. I might reconsider.”

Louis straightens up, eyes wide and face flushed. He sees the moment when Harry realizes what he’s just said in front of the entire crew. His blade pauses midair and his eyes lock onto Louis’ frozen form. The rest of the ship is utterly silent, void of the usual jeering crowd and shouted betting pools. Michael pauses when Harry turns away from him to take a step in Louis’ direction.

“Fuck,” Harry blurts, “Princess, I—“

“Don’t call me that,” is all Louis says before he turns and walks away. Harry makes an aborted sound behind him, but Louis can’t hear him. His ears are pulsing with anger. The heady _woosh_ , _woosh_ -ing of his pulse echoes around him. Bypassing the door to the captain’s quarters, Louis makes his way around to the door that leads to the lower decks of the ship.

He throws it open, glancing over his shoulder to take one last look at Harry. The man stands in the middle of the deck, one hand reaching out toward him. Michael stands beside him with one hand resting on his shoulder as he shakes his head. Their swords lay forgotten beside them. Louis grits his teeth. Turning away, the door slams shut behind him.

Louis huffs and curls up in a random hammock. Michael’s ratty blanket is thrown over his head. _How dare Harry say something like that about him?_ He scowls when he thinks about it. Ignoring the flush in his cheeks, Louis turns over onto his other side. He tries not to think about the instant regret that Harry had shown or his heartbroken face after Louis had told him not to use his special nickname. Though, that only makes him think about it even more.

“Argh!” Louis thrashes around, frustrated with himself for wanting to forgive his captain so quickly. His foot kicks out, connecting with the wooden wall of the small room. He pulls it back and cups it with his hands to try and soothe the burning sting. He shakes a fist, “You can’t just say stuff like that in front of everyone!”

“Shut up!” Someone shouts, “Some of us are trying to sleep here!”

Louis stills. “Sorry,” he whispers. He bites his lip and considers just going to sleep and ignoring Harry for the next few days. His stomach rumbles as he thinks. Pressing his palm flat to his tummy, Louis purses his lips. He looks around the room, trying to stay as quiet as possible, before carefully climbing down from the hammock.

Landing on his toes, Louis wraps Michael’s blanket around his shoulders and sneaks out of the room, closing the door softly behind him as he does. He pads through the hallway, peeking into different rooms. Finally, he reaches the dining room.

The room is empty, a single errand boy running through with a stack of dishes. Louis holds the door open for him as he passes, nodding slightly when the boy breathes out a grateful greeting. He lets the door swing behind him and makes his way over to the kitchen. It’s empty.

Louis looks around once more before slipping inside. He sighs when his tummy rumbles again, this time with a pang of hunger. Pouting, Louis looks around the different barrels and boxes for something to eat. He finds half a loaf of crusty bread and a jar of pickled vegetables. He grabs a few out of the jar and chews on the bread for a bit, looking off into the distance.

He startles when the door swings open again, a figure appearing suddenly before him. Louis reflexively stuffs the bread into his pocket. “I, I wasn’t,” he stutters. He stops and sighs in annoyance when he sees who’s just joined him.

Michael leans back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s got an eyebrow raised as he looks pointedly at the vegetables soaking the wooden countertop. Louis makes a face. “Weren’t what?” Michael teases him. He walks over, trailing a finger along the pattern stained onto the wood, “I thought I’d find you here.”

Louis shrugs his shoulders, “Well, aren’t you just the world’s greatest detective, then?”

Michael snorts, “It’s not an exactly impressive deduction,” he reaches over to pat at Louis’ bulging pocket where he’d stuffed the bread, “You’ve always hidden away in the kitchens when you got upset. Even at home.”

Louis takes a step back. “This _is_ my home,” he throws a hand out to the side, gesturing to the ship, “That place was never home. I never felt like a human being on Oskaria. I was always just a pawn for the king to marry off.” 

He sidesteps the comforting hand reaching out for him, anger finally bubbling up to the surface after years of repression. Michael tries to stop him, fingers catching at the hem of his shirt as Louis begins to pace. “I mean,” he continues, ignoring Michael, “He was ready to get rid of me the moment I turned eighteen. Did you know that? Negotiated me away like I was nothing more than land.”

Louis turns to look up at him, eyes bright and shining with unshed tears. “I was to be married off to some fucking prick officer. He couldn’t even bother finding me a prince. _God_. I’ve never felt happier than I was when Harry slit his throat open right in front of me.”

Michael grabs both of his shoulders and shakes him. “Louis!” he shouts desperately, “He was still your father.”

Louis steps forward until their chests are touching. He looks up at Michael through his lashes, mouth set in a straight line. “Not once,” he says, voice trembling, “did I consider that man my father.”

He steps back and leans against the counter. Looking down, Louis wipes at the corners of his eyes and sucks at his teeth. Michael can only watch him with sad eyes. “I don’t know what to say,” he confesses.

Louis scoffs. The sound is wobbly and wet. “I just want you, both of you, to know that I’m not some prize to be won. I’m a fucking human being,” he says. “When he— when Harry said that stuff earlier, it reminded me of how to men at court would talk about me when they thought I couldn’t hear.”

“Court?” Michael furrows his brows, reaching a hand out. He grabs Louis’ wrist and pulls him closer. Louis comes easily, burying his face in his shirt and wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist. “Those nasty fuckers.”

Louis giggles and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Louis exhales shakily, “Most of them died in the attack.”

Michale hums and rocks them slowly back and forth. “Never did care for nobility,” he jokes, “Other than you, baby.”

“I’m not nobility,” Louis mumbles, “Just a pirate.”

“I don’t think you’re _just_ anything, Louis Tomlinson,” Louis blushes at his sincere tone, “You’re much more special than you know, darling. Everyone on the ship knows it and nothing will ever change that. Don’t let that idiot ruin this for you.”

“Don’t call him an idiot,” Louis admonishes him, “He’s just competitive. You’re more alike than you’ll both admit, I think.”

Michael makes a doubtful noise. “Don’t you think you should tell him this?” He changes the subject. “About your life in the castle. He’s lurking around the ship like he’s committed a most heinous crime. Soothe his mind, Lou. Please.”

Louis pulls back and raises an eyebrow. “What’s this?” He teases, a small smile curling pink lips, “Do you perhaps care about our dear captain’s feelings?”

Michael coughs, pressing his hand to the back of Louis’s head and pushing him back into his chest. Ignoring Louis’ giggles, Michael tries to explain, “He’s always unusually cruel when you’re angry with him, Lou. It’s for the good of the crew.”

Louis hums in amusement. “Ah, yes, yes. Of course, the crew.”

Rolling his eyes, Michael pulls back from the embrace and all but pushes Louis out of the kitchen. Louis is easily led and weak with laughter. He holds onto Michael’s hand as them and leads him out of the lower deck and up to the ship’s main deck. Just as he said, the crew seems to be on edge. They’re working silently and diligently, throwing occasional worried glances toward the door to the captain’s quarters.

There’s a collective sigh of relief as Michael pulls him above deck. Blinking, Louis feels the tension in the air melt away slightly with his sudden presence. The short crewmate from earlier, Grimace, walks forward and slaps Michael on the back. “Good going, lad!” he says, “We may get a good night’s rest yet.”

Michael laughs sheepishly and continues to drag Louis across the ship. When they reach the door to their room, Louis pauses. There’s low, tinny music coming from the other side. He chews his lip and looks up at Michael to explain, “He only plays the Harpsichord when he’s feeling really dramatic.”

Michael hides his mouth with his hand. “Is that a bad thing?” He rubs his hand soothingly up and down Louis’ arm. “I’ll wait for you out here, if you want.”

Louis bites his lip and glances at the door next to them before looking back up, tilting his head to the side, “Why don’t you just come in with me?”

“It’s not really my place,” Michael tries to say, “I’m not— it’s not about me.”

Louis pouts. “Maybe not,” he admits, “but I still want you to be by my side.”

Michael coughs and Louis thinks he sees a light blush dust the apples of his cheeks. He reaches for Michael’s hand and plays with his fingers. Looking up through his lashes, Louis juts out his bottom lip and says in his sweetest voice, “Please?”

Swallowing, Michael clears his throat again. “Maybe next time, baby,” he relents.

Something in his head yells out in regret when Louis closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles. He drops Michael’s hand and steps in close, rising up to the tips of his toes and placing his hands on Michael’s cheeks to pull him in for a kiss. Dropping back down, Louis draws him down with him. Michael looms over him and wraps an arm around his waist, spinning them to press Louis against the wall beside the door.

He deepens the kiss, licking into Louis’ mouth and savouring the naturally sweet taste of his lips. Louis gasps under him, fists twisting in his chemise. “Michael,” he breathes.

Pulling back, Michael’s eyes widen at the sight of a flushed and panting Louis. The boy only smiles and reaches up to push back a stray lock of hair. Michael glances around them, worried for some unknown reason. _That’s not true_ , Michael thinks to himself, _the reason is very known and it’s currently playing the harpsichord next door_. The possessive captain that had beaten him down since he’d boarded the ship knocks insistently at the back of his head, like a constant reminder.

Michael smiles tightly. “You go, baby,” he says, “I’ll be in the barracks if you need me.”

Louis sighs. “Fine,” he says dramatically, “Leave me alone with the man who objectified me only hours ago. I don’t know how I’ll ever survive without a big and strong man such as yourself to protect me.”

Shaking his head, Michael feels his heart lighten slightly. “You two deserve each other,” he teases, “Bunch of drama queens, you are.”

Louis reaches up and pulls him back down by the laces of his shirt. Their lips are almost touching when Louis breathes out his next words, looking up at Michael with a soft smile, “You deserve us too.”

Then, he pushes back against his chest. Michael stumbles back a few steps from the surprise of it. Curling his hand around the brass knob, Louis blows him one last kiss. “Wish me luck,” he says cheekily, twisting the knob and disappearing into the room behind him.

The door slams shuts in Michael’s face.

“ _Oi!_ Kid!” A voice yells out for him from behind. Michael turns on his heel and pastes a smile onto his lips. It slips slightly when he notices Grimace is sitting by the dice table with two other crewmates and waving him over. He sniffs, crinkling his nose and shaking his head before he heads over.

Pressing his palms flat against the rough wood, Michael forces a smile, “What are we playing today, boys?”

“Hazard,” One of the other men says. Michael raises his eyebrows in approval as he pulls out a seat and settles in.

“Listen, kid,” Grimace leans over to speak quietly. “I just wanted to give you a piece of advice. From one man to another.”

“By all means,” Michael grunts, but listens nonetheless. 

“It’s not a competition.”

Michael twists his head to look over at the short man, face twists din confusion. “What isn’t?” He asks. He flicks his head toward the current dealer sarcastically. "I'm pretty sure it is, mate."

He listens as the other men call out numbers and cast their dice. Grimace stays silent next to him for a few moments. Michael keeps his eyes on the man, muscles tightening with each minute that passes by. Finally, Grimace sighs and throws his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the captain’s quarters. “Your boy,” he says quietly, just between the two of them. “For him, it’s not one or the other. He’s in it for both of you.”

“What do you know?” Michael bristles, scoffing. “You haven’t seen them.”

Grimace lets out a wretched cackle, throwing his head back and letting it out from the depths of his belly. “Oh boy, have I ever?” he slaps Michael on the back again, “I think everyone on the ship has seen them at least once.”

Scowling, Michael pushes the man’s arm away from him. “What your point?” he mutters dejectedly.

“My point is,” the man leans his elbows on the table, “he’s the same way with you.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Well, of course _you_ don’t,” Grimace laughs again, “Blind as a bat, you fuckin’ are. Isn’t that right, boys?”

The other men at the table give a few half-hearted responses and thumbs-ups toward him. Michael raises an eyebrow at their lukewarm answers and looks pointedly down at Grimace. “Is that right?” he asks.

“Anyway,” Grimace waves them all off, grumbling to himself, “my point still stands. You’re the one that has to do something about it. Grab the bull by the horns and all that shit. The only way you’re gonna win that boy is if you fuckin’ try, y’know what I mean?”

Michael looks down at the table, tracing the curls and burns in the wood with his eyes. He thinks about Louis. Pushing away from the table, Michael gives a short wave before making his way mack down below deck. He doesn’t run into any more crewmates that try to give him bullshit advice.

But it’s later on, when most of the men are sleeping soundly in their bunks and hammocks that Michael thinks about Grimace’s advice. He glances out the small porthole next to his hammock and looks out at the moon, thinking of how it had reflected clearly in Louis’ eyes moments before he’d pulled Michael down for a kiss earlier.

He’s in it for the both of them, Grimace had told him.

It may not be a competition, but fuck if Michael lets himself lose the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

☾

“Captain!” The cry comes suddenly one day. The sun is only starting its ascent in the sky and Louis is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The call comes as soon as they open the door out to the deck, almost like the cremate in the crow’s nest has been waiting. Harry stills beside him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the door. “Land ho!”

Harry waves to the man in the crow’s nest, “How much longer?”

There are a few beats of silence before the man responds, “A few hours. Half a day, at most.”

The captain turns to look over his shoulder at the navigator manning the wheel, giving another sign. Sighing, the door to the captain’s quarters is shut behind them and a flurry of activity on the ship deck begins. Louis watches as the men hurry to and fro to gather supplies, placing them in packs and rafts.

Louis turns to look up at him with shining eyes. “Land?” He asks enthusiastically.

Harry smirks proudly. “Thought we could take a small break,” he explains, slinging his arm around Louis’ shoulder and pulling the boy closer into him. He presses a kiss to the side of his head as they make their way to the side of the ship, “It’s still another few weeks until we reach Tortuga.”

He reaches out and points to the horizon where a speck of land can be seen. Louis gasps and reaches up to grab Harry’s hand. The island is small. A large, wooded mountain makes up most of the shape, but the white sandy beaches surrounding it are filled with promises of fun and relaxation.

Harry leans in and whispers, “Why don’t you go help the crew set up to disembark? You can make us lunch.”

Louis nods, turning in Harry’s hold to face him. He rises up to the tips of his toes and places a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling into it. Lowering himself back down, Louis squeezes his hand.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” He shouts as he takes off toward where Michael is waiting for him.

Louis leans over the side of the small rowing boat, looking with wide eyes at the colourful array of fish and corral that pass beneath them. Michael has his shirt held firmly in his grasp, tightening his grip when Louis stretches forward to drag his fingers through the water. The water is warm against his skin, soft and welcoming in the gentle wake. A small yellow fish darts off from its group to nibble at his fingertips and Louis giggles, wriggling his hand. The fish swims off, settling back into formation with the rest of the school.

The rest of the crew on their small boat joke and sing, excited at the opportunity to relax. They take turns rowing the boat to shore. Louis watches their large ship, anchored to the shallow ocean floor, get smaller and smaller as they make their way closer to the island.

When the water becomes shallow enough that the boat can no longer get any closer, Louis scrambles out of it. The warm water laps at his ankles in small waves as he waits for the other crewmates to get out of the boat. Harry gets off last, a pack of food thrown over one shoulder.

He lifts a hand to his mouth, calling out to the rest of the crew. “Alright, lads,” he says, “It’s been a rough few months. Take the chance to relax and have fun. We meet back here at sun down.”

A few of the other men salute as others run off, their figures quickly getting lost in the lush jungle. Grimace pats Louis on the shoulder as he passes with a group of carpenters setting up base on the beach. Louis waves at him, gasping when Harry grabs his hand and starts carting him off in the other direction. Grabbing Michael’s hand, Louis pulls him along as they curve around the small island. The sounds of other men quiet until they disappear altogether behind them.

Louis marvels at the tropical sights, pointing out a large-beaked bird flying overhead and small scurrying animals on the outskirts of the jungle floor. When they’re completely secluded, Harry drops the pack of food on the sand and crouches down to sit beside it. He looks up at Louis as he pats the ground next to him.

Louis lowers himself to settle in beside him, snuggling up to his side and wrapping his arms around Harry’s bicep. “It’s so beautiful,” he whispers.

Harry reaches up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. “Yes,” he agrees, eyes roaming over Louis’ flushed face, “It is.”

Michael sits on Louis’ other side. He places his hand on Louis’ upper thigh, his fingers warm and strong. Louis swallows when his grip tightens, fingertips riding up and teasing at the inside seam of Louis’ trousers. His breath stutters when Harry lowers his hand to cup his neck, pulling slightly to bring Louis’ attention back to him.

“Not as beautiful as you are,” Michael whispers into his ear. Louis bites back a smile,throwing his elbow back blindly. He gets a small _oof_ in return.

“You’re both the worst,” he chides them, leaning back slightly to rest his weight against Michael’s side. Harry rubs a thumb across his cheek and Louis nuzzles into it, “Absolutely terrible.”

Michael leans down to press a lingering kiss against his shoulder, “You love us.”

Louis sighs and looks up at the sky, a smile spread across his lips. He tilts his head back to lean his forehead against Michael’s. “Hopelessly,” he confesses.

Harry moves forward and places a possessive hand on his waist, pressing until Louis arches his back into his body. Chests almost touching, he brushes his lips against Louis’. “Are you okay to go swimming?” he changes the subject.

Louis presses forward to deepen the kiss, wrapping an arm around Harry’s neck and squealing when he tightens his hold on Louis’ waist and pulls him away from Michael. Reaching back, Louis tangles his hand with Michael’s as Harry settles him on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Louis pulls back, breathing shallowly. “I’m fine,” he reassures him, eyes slightly glazed over.

The sand is hot beneath his knees and the sun burns brightly above them. Louis feels a drop of sweat run down his spine, pooling at the base of his back. Michael presses his knuckles to his lips, not moving closer as Harry pulls Louis back in. The hand pressed to his waist curves around to his back, the damp fabric sticking to his skin.

Louis presses his hands to Harry’s chest and pushes a bit. Pulling back slightly, Harry looks up at him inquisitively. “I wanna go swimming,” Louis tells him in a breathy voice.

Michael coughs, tugging his hand from Louis’ grip to cover his mouth. “Don’t you want to eat first?” He asks, gesturing to the packed lunch.

“I guess,” Louis pouts and tilts his head. “Swimming after, though.”

Michael nods without a word, rifling through the pack and pulling out some dried meats and bread. He hands Louis a few fruits and settles in beside them to peel his own orange. Popping a slice into his mouth, Louis hums at the sweet taste. Harry reaches up and wets his thumb with his tongue before wiping at the sticky wetness around his mouth.

Louis doesn’t even think about it, just lets his tongue lap at his thumb. He wraps his lips around it and sucks softly, savouring the sweet tang of the fruit mixed with the salty taste of skin and sweat. His eyes drift slightly shut as he wraps his tongue around Harry’s finger, bobbing his head forward for more. Harry moans when he lets his teeth lightly graze the sides and Michael curses quietly.

The hand on his back flexes and dips lower to grab at the meat of Louis’ arse. He gasps and rears upwards in surprise, pushing back into the feeling. Harry snarls as his other hand joins, squeezing and pulling Louis further against him. Louis blushes when he looks down and notices a small tent in his trousers, already a bit wet at the tip.

His eyes squeeze shut as Harry shifts him again, rolling his own hips up into Louis’ rocking form. “ _Harry_ ,” he gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” a deep voice says into his ear. Michael reaches forward to press his own hand against Louis’ lower stomach. He just rests it there, letting it move with each rock of Louis’s hips. He chuckles. “Still want to go swimming?”

Louis whimpers and shakes his head, grasping tightly at Michael’s hand, nails digging into his knuckles. “Please,” he says, “I need you.”

Harry smirks against the skin of his throat, “Need us where, princess?”

Eyes darting around them, Louis whines. He tugs at Harry’s hair and rocks his hips down again and again. “Inside,” he pleads, pressing Michael’s hand harder against his stomach.

Michael chuckles. “Who do you want inside, baby?” he teases, “Can’t possibly fit the both of us in that little body of yours.”

Louis moans openly at that, throwing his head back and exposing his throat. Harry nibbles and sucks at the skin, bruising it. “Never say never, blacksmith,” he mumbles in a heated voice, his fingers digging in-between Louis’ arse cheeks to tease at his hole. “Our little princess can take a lot more than you think.”

Michael raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

Biting his lip, Louis looks between them. He pauses before reaching down to palm at Harry’s clothed cock. He licks his lips and looks up at him from beneath his lashes. “Please, Captain?” he says in a sweet voice.

Both men swallow at the coy display, cocks pulsing with a sudden heat. Not forgetting Michael, he tugs at his hand. “Louis,” Michael starts to say.

Without pausing, Louis reaches up to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. Lips meeting, he moans softly and goes pliant in Harry’s hold. Michael takes control of the kiss, rising up to his knees to loom over Louis’ smaller form. He pushes Harry’s hand away to wrap an arm around Louis’ waist, pulling him in and pressing their bodies together. Harry leans back and watches Louis get lost in the moment.

Small gasps escape from swollen lips and his chest flutters with each shallow breath he takes in between kisses. He rubs a hand against Louis’ hip, reaching down with his other hand to palm at his throbbing cock. He smirks when Louis reaches down to do the same to Michael’s dick, small hand massaging at the tenting bulge in the man’s trousers. Michael jolts forward, hips thrusting up into the pressure.

“Fuck,” he breathes the curse into Louis's mouth. Louis smiles and dips his head to nuzzle into his neck. He licks the fluttering pulse point, flattening his tongue against it.

The sound of a stick snapping in two has Louis almost flying off. His head snaps to the side, eyes narrowing at the sight of one of the younger crewmates hidden in the foliage. He has one hand down his pants and the other clasped over his mouth. Without thinking, Louis opens his mouth and hisses. The sound comes out sharp and threatening, sending the young boy scrambling away.

Michael flinches when sharp claws suddenly dig into his thigh, slicing through the thin fabric of his pants. Blood bubbles up and stains the cloth, dripping down the side of his leg. “Fuck,” he hisses, “Louis—“

The sudden movement shocks Harry, jolting him up straight. He holds onto Louis’ shoulder, trying to ground him. Cupping his cheek, he tries to pry Louis’ gaze away from the vacant spot in the forest back to him. “Hey, hey,” he coos, “Princess. It’s me. It’s Harry.”

Louis twists, trying to wrench free of his grasp. His breathing is heavy and laboured. Pulling his claws from Michael’s thigh with a slick, wet sound, Louis swipes toward Harry. Startled, he moves back and Louis takes his chance, ripping his shoulder from his grip and rolling back onto his heels. The other two men watch from the ground as Louis turns his eyes, pupils almost slit to a cat-like point, away from them and back to the forest.

Michael scrambles to his feet as Louis begins to make his way over. Sand flies up around their feet as Michael jumps forward, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him back to the ground. “Louis!” he shouts, “Come back, baby.”

Louis hisses again, easily slipping free from his hold. He stands on the balls of his feet, body light and prepared for another fight. His eyes flash and Harry gapes. His gaze falls from Louis’ eyes to his throat and down to his hands where blood drips freely from extended claws. “Fuck,” he mutters. 

Michael glances at him for only a second before his attention is pulled back to the feral boy between them. Harry snarls and hoists himself up to his feet. He marches over and places a large hand on the nape of Louis’s neck, squeezing harshly and pushing down. Louis thrashes, reaching a hand back to claw at his arm. Harry grabs his wrist and twists it, pinning it to the small of his back.

“Stop.”

He pushes him down again. Louis cries out but submits regardless. With an exhale, he kneels, lowers his head, and lets his arms fall limp beside him. Harry keeps his hand on the back of his neck.

Harry looks wildly at Michael, teeth bared. “What the _fuck_ was that?” he demands. He points an accusing finger, “You know something. Speak up.”

Michael raises his hands. “I honestly don’t know,” he tries to defend himself, words twisting together with nerves. “This is the first time I’ve seen him act like that.”

“How are you not freaking out?” Harry looks at him with accusing eyes, teeth grinding together. He nods down toward Louis’ trembling form, at the blood clumping the sand beneath his hand, “It’s not exactly something you see every day.”

Michael sneers, “What about you? You’re taking this awfully well.”

“I’m a fucking pirate,” Harry growls, “I’ve been on the seas for the better part of my life. I’ve seen much worse than a feral prince.”

Michael swallows and slowly lowers his gaze. “Something happened,” he says, voice shaking slightly at the memory, “when he fell off the boat. I can’t quite explain it.”

Bending at the knees, Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist and hoists him over his shoulder. “We’re going back to the ship,” is all he says in explanation.

Adjusting Louis in his grip, Harry begins to make his way back toward where they left the rest of the crew. Louis lets out a small, tired growl. His body goes limp in Harry’s grasp as he falls asleep. Michael rushes to catch up, tripping a few times in his haste. Reaching out a hand, he brushes Louis’ fringe back from his face. Louis’ nose scrunches up and he whines in his sleep.

“What is he?” Michael wonders out loud.

Harry huffs and ignores him. He trudges through the low wake, heavy steps scaring away the small schools of fish. He gently lowers Louis into the small rowing boat and turns back to the group of sailors on the beach. “We’re heading back to the ship,” he announces.

The crew waves them off and together they make their way back to the ship. Harry softly brushes the back of his hand against Louis’ cheek, his usual icy eyes slightly thawed with worry. Michael bites his lip and continues rowing.

“I don’t know for sure,” Harry says quietly, pulling back from Louis to focus on rowing them away from the island. He sighs and rubs a hand against his chin. “But he may be some kind of morgens.”

“Mor—what?” Michael blinks.

“It’s Celtic,” Harry explains, face contorted with hesitancy. “They’re a type of water spirit that drown men. It’s just a guess for right now. You said something happened when he fell overboard, right?”

“I—“ Michael stutters, eyes rolling up to look at the sky. “Yeah, kind of. He just looked…wild, or something. Still himself, but somehow _more_. If that makes sense.”

Harry hums. He glances down at Louis’ sleeping form once more, noting the flushed skin and blunt nails, the long, knotted hair splayed out on the seat by his thighs. He wants to ask more questions. “I have some books in my room,” is all he says.

“So, he’s what?” Michael clears his throat and glances down at the ocean below them. The water has turned dark by now, the waves swirling calmly beneath them. “Some kind of mermaid?”

“I highly doubt it,” Harry scoffs. “Mermaids, and sirens for that matter, are extremely rare. I’ve only ever seen one in my lifetime. Louis’s family is originally from the British Isles right? Recessive morgens blood is much more likely. They're relatively harmless. If it's dormant enough then something like this will be the extreme.”

Michael nods. They continue to row together in silence. As the ship continues to grow closer, Michael clears his throat a few times. “About that, I, uh,” he sighs heavily and pushes his fingers against his cheek. He opens his mouth before shutting it and pressing his lips together hesitatingly. He takes another deep breath. “I actually have something to tell you.”

He looks up and meets Harry’s eyes with a steely gaze. His mouth is set straight and his cheeks are sallow. Harry brushes a hand through Louis’ hair without breaking his stare. His hand freezes when he hears Michael’s next words.

“It’s about Davy Jones.”

☾

Camped away in the bowels of the ship, Louis holds back a smirk when Grimace deals them their cards. _Pair of Queens_ , he looks at his cards again before scanning the faces of the three other men sat in a circle. Michael’s biting his lip as he looks down at his cards. Oliver, a young boatswain, has a clean poker face on. Lastly, one of the more excitable gunmen, Peter, is scratching his head in frustration.

Grimace takes a cursory look around them, “Alright, boys?” At their nod, he unveils the first card laid out on the wood floor. _Four of hearts_. He gives them a moment to look at the card before nodding over at Peter. The man nods back and tilts his head up challengingly, “Call,” he says in a rough voice, throwing in a chip. The others follow suit.

Michael throws him a cheeky wink when Louis leans forward to place his chip in the pot.

The next few cards are quickly revealed, Peter folding when the Jack of clubs is turned over. Louis watches Michael carefully for any slip-up, biting his lip when his gaze roams over the man’s sharp cheekbones and full lips. His eyes linger on the thick muscle of his shoulders and biceps. Licking his lips, Louis almost misses his turn to call. “Raise,” he mumbles absentmindedly, throwing in an extra chip. He tries his best to hide his blush behind a hand. By the smug look in Michael’s eyes, he’s failed.

Michael calls, adding in the chips. Oliver folds.

“Alright, boys,” Grimace rubs his hands together, “Time to reveal your hands.”

Scratching the back of his head, Michael throws his cards face up on the floor. _Eight of diamonds and a King._ Louis bites his lips to hold back a satisfied smile as he puts his own cards down.

Before they can read them, however, the boat rocks violently over to one side, sending the chips rolling across the floor. Louis falls over into Michael’s body, clutching at any fabric he can get his hands on. Strong arms wrap safely around his shoulders and hold him against Michael’s chest. Peter lets out a surprised shout and Oliver gives a pained sound as he knocks into a barrel of whiskey. “What in the bloody hell was that?” Grimace growls, already standing and making his way up.

The rest of the men follow him, Louis pushed safely behind Michael as they climb the stairs. Louis can’t help but worry about Harry. The captain had taken his morning shift up at the wheel of the ship, leaving Louis that morning only with a soft kiss to the forehead and a whispered _I love you_. His grip around Michael’s shirt tightens.

The door to the deck is flung open and Louis squints his eyes against the sudden flood of light. Even though the weather is dreary and dull, the sudden change has him reeling for a second. He doesn’t notice right away that Michael has stopped in his tracks and bumps his nose into the man’s back. Rubbing the tip of his nose, Louis looks up. “Michael?” he asks softly.

When he doesn’t answer, Louis peeks around his shoulder. His mouth drops open with a shocked gasp at what he sees. The deck is coated in a thin layer of water as rain falls from the clouds. The ocean around them is covered in a thick white layer of fog, limiting their view to only a few meters all around them. There’s a wooden plank on the railing next to them and Davy Jones himself stands in the middle of the deck. Louis pushes himself ever-closer against Michael’s back, his breath hiccuping in his throat.

Waterlogged hair and slimy tentacles cover the pirate’s face and evil eyes peer out from beneath a wide-brimmed tricorn as he scans the deck. “Where is your captain?” He hisses.

Louis flinches at the cold sound of his voice. He feels a slight shake in Michael’s shoulders and aches to pull him away, back into the ship, to warm him up and fall asleep with him. He almost cries out loud when Michael takes a step forward, reaching out to catch his sleeve and tug him back. His hand meets only air as Michael disappears into the fog.

“ _Where_ ,” The cursed man says again, his voice rising in volume and booming across the deck, “ _is your captain?_ ”

A deep sigh comes from the front of the ship. Davy Jones spins on his heel in the direction of the sound as the fog parts, almost as if by magic, to reveal Harry leaning against the foremast of the ship, his arms crossed against his chest and his head tilted down. His voice rumbles deep and strong, “What are you doing on my ship again?”

The fog grows thicker around the ship until Louis can barely make out anyone else but the two pirate captains in the middle of the deck. Davy Jones has a casual hand on the hilt of his sword. “You see, captain,” he says. His voice is scratchy and rough, but powerful and unbroken. “That blacksmith of yours wasn’t a good fit for my crew. Killed a few of my best men. So, you see, you owe me.”

Harry scratches his bearded chin, “Do I?”

Tentacles curl with distaste. “We have a _deal_ ,” the man seethes, “You give me your power or it’s your men that will pay.”

Louis watches breathlessly as the man raises a hand and snaps his fingers twice. He lets out a shocked scream when cold, wet arms wrap around his waist suddenly from behind. They pull him back against an equally slimy body as a clammy hand covers his mouth. The smell of mouldy, wet and rotting skin reaches his nose, and Louis retches, leaning his head forward to gag. His head spins at the acrid smell. “My,” a wispy voice wheezes into his ear, “you are a pretty one, aren’t you?”

Louis pulls his shoulders up to his ears in discomfort, wriggling in the strong grip holding him hostage. He lets out a pained whimper when the hand around his mouth moves up to cover his nose. His assailant pushes him forward and Louis stumbles a few steps before finding his pace. Together, they make their way closer to the center of the deck.

When the other crewmates of the ship emerge from the fog in similar situations, Louis whimpers. He sees Harry straighten up and take a step forward. “What are you doing?” He shouts, “This isn’t part of the deal.”

“The _deal_ ,” Davy Jones mocks him, “was broken the moment you refused to give me the information I requested.”

Harry’s lip curls up in a snarl and he reaches down for his sword, “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

Jones lets out a frustrated growl and moves forward, pulling his sword from its sheathe. “But it can be transferred.”

Eyes wide, Harry moves back and unsheathes his own sword, raising it to guard against the sudden attack. “What the hell are you talking about?” He says angrily. He thrust forward and sends his opponent back a few steps until they’re back on equal ground, swords clashing and clanging against each other with each step.

Sword raised, Jones lets out a wild sound between a laugh and a howl, “You know exactly what I mean, you _cur_. Your siren’s loyalty will be mine, even if I have to kill you for it. I will have her.”

Louis watches confused as Harry stumbles, the grip on his sword slipping slightly with shock. Harry reaches down for his pistol. Davy Jones’ lip tilts up in a victorious smirk. He lets out a flurry of thrusts and slices, cutting into Harry’s arms and stomach. Blood seeps through the thin fabric of his shirt. Louis struggles in the strong grip around him, trashing and screaming when Jones kicks forward and sends Harry to the ground. He takes his chance, switching his grip on his sword and trusting downwards towards the captain’s chest.

Mere centimeters away from piercing Harry’s heart, a voice calls out from the back of the ship. “Hey, tentacle dick!”

Pausing in shock, Davy Jones turns his head to the side for a second. The voice calls out again, “Yeah, I’m talking to you, coward!” Snarling, he pulls his sword back from Harry’s chest and turns to look at the intruder. The fog across the entire deck clears up, the misty cloud pushed out to linger on the edges of the ship.

Michael stands on the lowest part of the last mast.

Cold eyes widen in shock and Davy Jones takes a shocked step forward as his cheeks flush deep blue with fury, “You-“

“Thought you’d seen the last of me, huh?” Michael wraps one of the ropes around his wrist and pushes off the mast. Gracefully, he lands on the deck and pulls his sword from its sheathe, pointing it at the cursed captain. “If anyone’s going to kill someone, it’s going to be me shoving my sword through your chest, you bastard.”

Jones laughs roughly, “I’m not here for you, boy.”

Michael takes a step forward and lowers himself into the proper stance, his sword ready and sure in front of him, “Too bad,” he snarls, “I’m the one you’re fucking getting.”

Jones runs forward with a frustrated scream.

Louis takes his chance and pushes his elbow into his captor’s stomach, throwing his head back when the grip around his mouth loosens up with shock. There’s a painful impact as the back of his head meets the man’s nose and he stumbles back. Pushing away, Louis runs across the deck to get to Harry. Water splashes around his knees as Louis kneels beside his captain and rests a hand against his chest. “Are you alright?” He asks desperately.

A large hand wraps around his own and squeezes, the skin warm and calloused. “I’m fine, baby,” Harry reassures him.

“You’re bleeding,” Louis cries out, his voice shaky and scared as he looks over the wounds covering his body, “a lot.”

Cupping Louis’ face, Harry looks at him fondly, “As long as you’re with me,” he says, “I’ll be fine.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Louis’s voice quivers, “What the hell is even happening?”

Harry lets out a pained sound, “I’ve got a bit of explaining to do, haven’t I?”

Louis laughs wetly, a few tears falling from his cheeks. “Yeah, you really do.”

“Well, well,” a cold voice says from behind them, “Isn’t this a lovely scene?”

Louis grits his teeth as he turns to look up at Davy Jones. The man, if you could even call him a man, stands above him, the tentacles on his face moving with each breath he takes. Michael stands behind him, grappled by one of the slimy, wet crewmates from Davy Jones’ ship. Louis rises up to his feet, fists clenched on either side of his hips. “What do you want?” He says with a raised chin.

A single tentacle reaches forward as if to trail down the curve of Louis’ cheek. He holds back a disgusted shiver when Jones moves closer. “Captain Styles, you naughty thing,” he whispers. His breath pools across Louis’ cheeks and settles in the nape of his necks as chills erupt across his skin, “Who is _this_?”

“Leave him alone,” Harry snarls, pushing himself up to stand behind Louis. Falling back slightly against his chest, Louis takes comfort in the warmth. Jones’ eyes travel down Harry’s form slowly, a slow smile curling across his face. The tentacles wriggle happily.

“Well, fuck me,” he says with an incredulous laugh, “It’s you.”

Confused, Louis turns to see what has the cursed captain so excited. His eyes jump up to lock with Harry’s when he notices the same thing: the wounds and open cuts across his chest are scarred over, light pink wounds replacing the raw and bleeding ones. “Wha-“ Louis starts.

“You’re the siren he's talking about,” Harry says quietly to himself, almost unbelieving. He lets out a huff of laughter, “Of course you are.”

“What?” Louis’ can feel his frustration building in his chest, tired of being kept in the dark, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I didn’t think it’d be a boy,” Jones notes, tilting his head to the side and eyeing Louis up, “Not that it matters much, in the end.”

Harry pulls Louis back against his chest and growls, “You’re not taking him.” 

Jones squints his eyes coldly. Wrapping a cold hand around Louis’ arm, he lifts his tentacles to bare his teeth, rotting, and black things that they are, “Why don’t you let it decide for itself?” He looks down at Louis with a cruel smile, “Just remember, pet, that I will kill your precious captain if you don’t. And you will end up bound and gagged on my ship regardless.”

Behind him, Michael jerks against the three men holding him down. “Louis!” he shouts, thrashing harder when the grip around his body doesn’t loosen up, “ _Fuck!_ ”

Louis looks between the three of them, tears blurring his sight. Jones looms over him and speaks, his breath cold and moist against Louis’ skin. “You see, pet,” he begins, “I’m a dying man. Got cursed by some fucking dirty sea witch, right? And the only cure, she said, was the blood of a siren. Got it?” Louis swallows and nods. “So, I come here to your fucking captain, and I tell him that I heard he once caught a siren. He tells me yeah. But get this, he won’t tell me where he got her.”

Louis looks back at Harry with wide eyes, lip quivering when the captain refuses to meet his eyes. “What then?” he turns back toward Jones. “He promised you me?”

“No, no, no.” Jones tuts, “He says to me, he says let’s make a deal, right? The deal being that he’ll keep supplying me with a crew to help me in my search. And that with each new powder monkey he sends, he’ll give me a hint. Like it’s some kind of _game_.”

“You fucking bastard,” Michael begins to scream again, “You’re the one treating it like some fucking game! You’re the fucking _sick_ bastard torturing us for answers we don’t fucking have!”

“Shut him up,” Jones calls out. Louis tries to run forward when one of the men holding him down rears back and punches him across the face but Harry holds him back tightly. Holding Louis against his chest Harry leans down and whispers against his ear, “I can’t lose you. Don’t be stupid.”

Louis feels his nose burn as tears begin to fall from his eyes. He lightly shakes his head up and down. There’s one last squeeze around his waist before Harry loosens his grip again. “So, what?” Louis lifts his head to face Jones once more, “You kill me or him? Is that it?”

“Oh, pet, not at all,” Jones leans forward and runs a cold finger against his cheek, “I’m keeping you alive. You’re much too pretty to get rid of.”

“And you won’t hurt him if I come with you willingly.” It’s not a question. Louis barely holds back a new wave of tears when he catches Michael’s eyes over Davy Jones’ shoulder. When he sees the conviction in Louis’ gaze, he lowers his head. Louis bites back a whimper when he notices his shoulders shaking with sobs. He looks back at Jones. “Right?”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Jones reluctantly nods and waves a hand in front of him as he bows, “If that is what you wish.” It’s riddled with sarcasm.

Louis purses his lip and looks back over his shoulder at Harry. Raising a hand, his captain cups Louis’ cheek and pulls him in slowly. He connects their lips together firmly, pressing the words “I love you” into Louis’ lips. Louis pushes up against his kiss desperately, reaching up to wind his fingers through wet curls.

Pulling back, Louis licks the taste of him from his lips, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes and nodding once. He turns his attention back to Jones and, with a raised chin, speaks, “Tell your men to let go of my friends and return to your ship, first.”

“Who are you to make demands, pet?” Jones asks.

Louis tilts his head, “I’m the one thing keeping you from death.”

Snarling, Jones raises a hand. The ghastly crew reacts immediately, letting go of Louis’ crewmates and making their way across the wooden planks back to their ship. Soon enough, Jones is the only remaining member of the crew on board. Michael shoots Louis one last look before he pushes himself up and begins to help the rest of the crew back into the ship, hopefully to get the canons ready. Harry stays on the deck with Louis and Jones.

The fog begins to roll back in.

“I’ll come with you,” Louis says. Rain begins to fall again, the loud sound of the drops hitting the wet deck echoing loudly around them. Louis blinks against the drops hitting his face. “But leave Harry alone. Forever.”

Harry wraps a hand around his arm, his fingers digging into the meat of his bicep. “Princess,” he pleads, “Don’t do this.”

Louis ignores him, resolute. “Lead the way,” he says, waving an arm toward Jones.

Laughing roughly, he presses a hand between his eyebrows and shakes his head. “You’re just going to ignore him?” he nods at Harry. When Louis doesn’t respond, he chuckles again, “Alright, pet.”

Pressing a hand to the back of Louis’ back, the cursed captain leads them across the deck to one of the wooden planks laid between the two ships. Louis pushes back a disgusted shiver at the stench of mold and algae. Jones bows and sweeps an arm in front of him, “Ladies first,” he hisses.

Stepping onto the rickety plank of wood, Louis feels his breath catch in his throat. He tries not to look down as he crosses it but stops in the middle of the plank when Jones climbs onto it after him. He turns toward him with a panicked, “What are you doing?”

The captain raises both of his hands, “Just getting to the other side, just like you.”

“You couldn’t wait until I was done?” Louis says angrily. The wooden plank wobbles beneath them and Louis throws his arms out to the side to keep his balance. Jones laughs at the panicked look on his face. Sobering up quickly, the captain draws his pistol and points it at Louis’ stomach.

“Well,” the captain says, nodding in the direction of his ship, “Finish.”

Louis, feeling sick with worry and anxiety as the wood beneath his feet begins to creak, looks down. His vision tunnels as he faces the stormy and violent waves crashing into the bodies of both ships, the water a deep blue-green. He can’t see anything below the surface. Louis shuts his eyes quickly, fighting against the urge to throw up. “I can’t,” he whispers, “I’m scared.”

“What the fuck kind of siren is scared of water?” Jones hisses angrily.

After a few minutes of watching Louis try to regulate his breathing, Jones lets out a frustrated sound and moves forward, making the plank wobble and creak with each step. Louis lets out a scared sound and reaches forward to hold onto the damp fabric of his coat. Jones wraps a hand around Louis’s wrist and pulls him closer. “Careful!” Louis screeches.

“Have to do everything myself, don’t I?” Jones mutters to himself. He presses the cold gun to Louis’ stomach. The chill of metal seeps through his shift, floods his bones with terror. The wooden plank cries beneath their feet.

Louis glances over his shoulder and meets Harry’s eyes. The man is standing at the edge of his ship, a determined look in his eyes. His tricorn is back on his head and his shirt has been washed of most of the blood. He nods once. Louis opens his eyes the rest of the way and lets out one last breath before inhaling and falling back, pulling Jones with him off of the plank and into the water.

The hard impact of the surface against his back hits him first, then it’s the cold. Louis keeps his eyes open and his arms locked around Jones’ neck as they dive deeper and deeper into the ocean. He watches as the man thrashes and kicks against his hold, trying to push him away as they sink.

Aiming desperately, Jones pulls the trigger on his pistol. The bullet cuts through the water in a torrent of warped bubbles. It swims through the water between them. Louis feels his shoulder burn with searing hot pain and he lets out a pained scream, watching the bubbles rise to the surface.

Jones watches them too. Then he looks down at Louis with a murderous look in his eyes. “You!” the bubbles erupt from his mouth this time. Reaching forward, the cursed captain wraps his hands around Louis’ neck and _squeezes_.

Choking and fighting against the grip at his throat, Louis tightens his legs around Jones’ waist and twists until he’s on top and Jones is sinking. He releases his hold around the man’s neck and reaches up to press his thumbs into his eyes instead, making him scream. More bubbles float up, kissing Louis’ skin as they rise.

Everything since Michael's capture runs through his mind then. The feelings of abandonment and despair that had plagued his mind for months when Michael was stuck on Jones' ship and the happiness that he felt when they found him alive in the water. He remembers how affected Michael had been by whatever had happened on the cursed captain's ship and the way he had refused to tell even Louis about it that one night so long ago. Anger and rage fill his heart when he thinks about the way Jones had controlled their captain with cheap threats and underhanded tactics. It builds, and it builds until there's a dark pit of fury in the pit of his stomach. 

Louis reaches up and digs his nails into Jones’ wrist, drawing deep black blood from his skin. When he pulls his hand back, Louis is shocked to see long claw-like nails protruding from his fingers, the keratin a deep black. Looking back down at the captain between his thighs, Louis lets out a deafening shrieking sound and thrusts his hand into his chest.

His nails easily tear through the layers of fabric and skin. Black begins to pool and float around their bodies as Louis wraps his hand around a throbbing mass. Completely taken over by instincts, Louis _pulls_ and rips out Davy Jones’ still-beating heart. Wide eyes watch him as Louis drags a finger down the captain’s convulsing chest and he brings the heart to his lips. Letting his mouth drop open, Louis bites into the warm meat.

Pulling back, Louis lets the heart go and pushes it away from them, not watching as it begins to sink. When the light fades from Jones’ eyes, Louis unwraps himself from the body and kicks upwards, making his way up toward the surface.

The water breaks before he reaches it. Harry’s body appears, strokes powerful and desperate as he swims through the water toward Louis. They meet halfway, Louis wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders and digging his face into his neck. Harry kicks upwards and brings them back to the surface.

The air is cold and biting against Louis’ skin as they reach the surface. He gasps and chokes when the air hits his throat. Harry presses his palms to either side of Louis’ neck and nods at him to try again. This time, the air reaches his lungs and Louis takes a few deep breaths before speaking. “What the fuck,” he coughs, “I just pulled out that fucker’s heart.”

He lifts his hand out of the water and marvels at the long, sharp claws. Harry laces their fingers together and brings them back beneath the waves. “They’ll go back to normal when you’re dry,” he explains.

A rope ladder is thrown over the side of their ship and Harry pushes Louis up against it first, climbing up after him. They climb over the side of the ship and collapse on the deck. Louis feels weak and breathless. He rolls over onto his side to face Harry and reaches out a clawed hand. “I love you,” he whispers weakly.

“I love you, too,” Harry smiles back, “Get some rest, little prince.”

He feels his consciousness begin to float away as darkness floods his sight.

Louis groans as he wakes, reaching up to press a hand against the sharp ache in his shoulder. His fingers meet dry bandages wrapped around his chest and shoulder. He’s laying in their bed, all tucked in and covered in 20 blankets. “Wha-“ He coughs when the words get caught in his throat. His breathing is shallow and laboured.

Looking around, Louis’ racing heart slows when he catches sight of Michael sitting at the table nearby. Michael comes over to kneel beside Louis, pressing a hand against his neck. “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he says. Louis looks at him inquisitively, “This happened when you fell overboard that one time, too.”

“Oh,” Louis barely remembers.

“Drink some water,” Michael hands him a cup of rum, “You’re still a bit wet. The captain said this should help your body know that you’re not underwater anymore.”

Louis takes the cup gratefully and sips at the slightly spiced liquid inside, shivering when he feels the gills on either side of his neck slowly slide shut. “That feels _so_ weird,” he confesses.

The door to the room slams shut behind Harry as he enters. “I thought I said to let him rest,” he quirks an eyebrow toward Michael who only raises his hands sheepishly. Climbing onto the bed and curling up behind Louis, Harry wraps an arm around his waist and presses his face into soft hair. “I really didn’t know,” he says, “Please believe me.”

Michael grabs a chair and brings it over to the side of the bed, taking a seat and grabbing both of Louis’ hands in one of his. “To be fair,” he bends forward and presses his forehead to Louis’ fingers, “We thought it was something completely different. Either way, please forgive us.”

“Okay,” Louis says easily, “I forgive both of you.”

They press simultaneous kisses against Louis’ skin and he shivers happily at the attention. “Thank you, princess,” Harry whispers.

“Now,” Louis pouts, pulling a hand free from Michael’s grip and using it to tug on his sleeve, “Why aren’t you in bed with us?”

Michael looks over his shoulder at Harry before shrugging and climbing on the mattress, settling in front of Louis and wrapping an arm around his waist, close to Harry’s. Leaning forward, Louis presses a quick kiss to his lips. “There we go,” he smiles. Michael smiles softly back at him as Harry tightens his grip minutely.

Warm and cuddled by his two favourite men, Louis quickly falls asleep and dreams of nothing but calm waters and soft melodies.

☾

Louis is the first to wake the next morning, his body warm and slightly sweaty due to the two large men spooning him on both sides. He’s facing Harry when he wakes, eyelashes fluttering open and brushing against the captain’s impressive chest. Louis maneuvers an arm between them and gently trails a finger down the valley between Harry’s pecs. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the skin before very, very slowly moving out from between the two men.

When he’s finally sitting at the foot of the bed, Louis looks down fondly as Harry reaches out blindly for him. His hand meets air and a frown creases his eyebrows. Reaching down, Louis grabs one of the throw pillows they’d thrown to the floor the night before and places it in the space he’d just occupied between them. Harry immediately grasps onto it, pulling the cushion into his chest and burying his face into it.

Michael rolls over onto his back, one hand dangling down the side of the bed, completely dead to the world. Louis bites his lip to hold back a snicker.

After a bit more time spent watching his boys sleep, Louis crawls off the bed and makes his way toward Harry’s desk. He can’t stop thinking of what had happened the day before. His mind races with thousands of possibilities and scenarios, but none of them click into place like he hopes.

Sitting in the ornate chair that Harry so often occupies, Louis flips through the maps and loose pages scattered across the desk. He’s not quite sure what he’s looking for, but he has a feeling that he’ll find it here. He gently places a few maps on the ground next to the desk, uncovering more paper and notebooks beneath. A headache begins to form between his eyebrows and at the back of his skull.

Louis leans forward on his elbows and cups his head in his hands, breathing out a heavy sigh. “What am I doing?” He asks himself.

Glancing around the room, Louis tilts his head at the large bookcase that makes up the wall opposite the bed. He furrows his brow and considers it before shaking his head, “There’s no way that kind of information would just be out in the open like that.”

“How can you be so sure?” A sleep-rough voice says in response. Louis looks at the bed, smiling when he sees Harry sitting up against the pillows, one arm thrown back behind his head. Michael still sleeps deeply beside him, mouth wide open. Harry gazes at him sleepily, but fondly, “Good morning, princess.”

Louis pushes himself away from the desk and makes his way back over to the bed, crawling over Michael’s sleeping form to press a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. Straddling thick, muscled thighs, he grabs the tricorn hanging on the wall and places it on his head with a flourish.

“Good morning, Captain,” he whispers cheekily. 

Curling a hand around the back of Louis’ head and threading his fingers into silky-soft hair, Harry lets out something close to a growl, “What were you doing, rifling through my things?”

“I wanted some answers,” Louis responds truthfully, “You weren’t exactly forthcoming last night.”

“I don’t know if you remember,” he says, pressing quick kisses to Louis’ lips a few times, “But a few of us almost died. There were a few more important matters at hand.”

Louis swallows and looks down at the sheets bashfully, nodding. “You’re right,” he admits.

A finger presses against the bottom of his chin, tilting his head up to look at Harry once more. The man gives him a soft smile and leans forward to knock their foreheads together gently. “I’ll explain everything,” he promises, “I just needed to make sure that I hadn’t lost you.”

Louis moves his head to rub their noses together. “Sorry to say,” he warns jokingly, “but you’re stuck with me forever.”

Harry’s lips part in a happy smile, the wrinkles at the side of his eyes deepening, “There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with.”

Louis knocks his knee against Michael’s torso, making him snort and turn over in his sleep. “Even if it means you’re stuck with him too?” Louis asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Harry glances down then back up, his eyes as bright as his grimace. “Even then,” he shrugs, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist and pulling him down onto the bed, rolling him over so that he sits comfortably between Louis’ spread thighs. The hat falls off his head, landing above him on the pillows. “As long as you’re here, princess, I’d deal with the Kraken if I had to.”

Louis giggles and reaches up to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck, “I could _probably_ make that happen, you know.”

Harry hides his face and laughs, his shoulders shaking with it. “Unfortunately, princess,” the hand around Louis’ waist squeezes, making him jerk and laugh, “The Kraken isn’t real.”

Louis’ mouth pops open on an offended gasp, “Well how do _you_ know? I’m a fucking mermaid if you missed that part. I don’t think you can say for certain that the Kraken doesn’t exist.”

A mumble comes from beside them, pulling Louis’ attention away from Harry’s captivating gaze. He looks over at Michael as he rubs a knuckle into his eye and clears his throat. “You’re not a mermaid, baby,” he tries to say again, “You’re part siren.”

Louis looks between them with a pout, “What’s the difference?”

“You don’t turn into a fish, for one,” Harry explains, “It’s more like a recessive gene that lets you breathe and hunt underwater, probably from a few generations back.”

Scratching his nails against his neck where his gills had come out the day before, Louis tilts his head, “Wait. Don’t sirens usually lure sailors to their deaths? Are you really okay with me staying on the ship?”

Harry curls up against his back, burying his face into the nape of his neck. “There’s no need to worry,” he spoke seriously, “you’ve already lured me in. There’s no going back, baby.”

Michael stretches his arms out, wrapping them around Louis’ waist and pulling himself in closer with a yawn, “Ditto,” he mumbles. He nuzzles his nose against Louis’ thigh and lets out a happy sigh. 

Louis looks down at him with a fond smile, running his fingers through Michael's short hair. When he looks back up, his eyes are sharper and clear. He moves out from the cuddle pile to kneel at the end of the bed. Pouting he draws a small pattern into the sheets, “You don’t think I could lure you in again?”

Michael moves back to sit up against his pillow. “Aren’t the fish supposed to the ones on the other end of the line?”

Louis chews on his cheek to hold back a comment. “Big talk for a human,” it comes out anyway.

Harry smirks at them, settling in. He leans back against the wall beside him and spreads his legs. Holding out his hands palms up, he tilts his head cockily. “Give it your best shot, princess,” he challenges, “We’ll see who falls first.”

Louis licks his lips and glances down between his legs before looking over at Michael with a cheeky smile. “You in, sailor?” He asks, pulling his pants off until he kneels fully naked in front of them, bar the bandages around his chest.

Scoffing, Michael folds his arms behind his head, biceps flexing with the movement. Louis feels his mouth go dry. “Come at me, baby,” Michael says, “I’d usually say that two against one isn’t fair, but you’ve got a bit of an advantage, in this case.”

Louis squirms at the attention, a pink blush decorating his chest and cheeks. He hums shyly and reaches out to curl his hand around Harry’s ankle. The captain shifts, leaning further back against the wall to stretch his leg out further. He looks at Louis with heated eyes from under hooded lids, not quite smiling but still giving off an amused air. Louis turns to Michael then, rising up to his knees and falling forward so that he’s on all fours. Arching his back, Louis calls out a soft, “ _Michael_ ,” that sends a shiver up the former blacksmith’s spine.

Smiling sweetly, Louis turns back to Harry, letting go of his leg to crawl forward on the bed until he lands between both men. He faces Harry, settling on his knees against and placing both of his hands on his impressive pecs. Harry throws an arm behind his head, the other curling around Louis’ waist and landing low on the bare skin of his hip. “Hello, princess,” he says in his deep voice.

Blushing, Louis buries his face into Harry’s neck. “I give up,” Louis confesses when the laughing has died down, “I don’t know how to lure.”

“You’ll learn eventually, love,” Harry pats him on the ass, making him squeal. “We’ll practice together whenever you want.”

Louis lets out a small _hmph_. Pulling back, he stretches up to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips before falling back on the bed, body relaxed and open. “Will you still fuck me?” He asks, tilting his head and pouting.

Michael swallows. Harry chuckles and sits up, only to jump down and join Louis flat on the mattress. He wraps his arms around his hips and presses his lips to Louis’s soft stomach. Louis laughs and tries to push against his head when Harry begins to blow raspberries against his skin. Michael lets out a surprised guffaw and joins them, flopping over and landing on Louis’ other side.

“Whatever our lovely Louis wants,” Harry says, pressing Louis’ thighs apart slowly and making a space for himself in between them, “Our lovely Louis will get.”

Louis holds his hands close to his chest and watches Harry watch him. They gaze at each other with heated eyes as Harry slowly trails a hand down the length of his thigh, his hand warm and big against Louis’ leg. “I want to,” Louis whispers, the words barely coming out. He wraps his hand around Michael’s wrist. “Want you both to fuck me.”

Reaching forward, Harry presses a finger to Louis’ lips, smiling when he obediently pops the tip of it into his mouth and sucks. “Did you want one of us here?” Harry pulls his hand back and reaches it down between his legs to press two fingers to Louis’s hole. He raises an eyebrow. “or both of us here?”

Louis rolls his hips back against his fingers, nails digging into Michael’s arm, “Please,” he begs. When Harry just raises an eyebrow down at him, he swallows and tips his head back. Throat exposed, Louis gasps as Harry pushes the tip of his wet finger into his ass. “Both of you. Inside.”

The only window in the room floods the warm morning light in, the rays landing on Louis’s sun-kissed skin and turning it golden against the white sheets. Harry feels his fingers twitch and he swallows harshly. In his periphery, he sees Michael’s grip on the bed tighten. “Fuck, baby,” He mumbles, “Forget what I said earlier.”

Louis looks up at him and tilts his head, "What do you mean?” The light passes across his face as he moves, the blue of his eyes burning brightly as it does. He looks ethereal, completely otherworldly, as he lies before them. Like some kind of ancient god, Michael thinks to himself, thinking back to the ancient myths of golden gods and goddesses.

“There is nothing for you to learn,” Harry explains, “You are fucking perfect as you are. Positively alluring.”

Louis blushes and fidgets. His legs spread wider of their own accord. Looking up at Michael, he thumbs gently at the racing pulse in his wrist. “Is this okay?” He asks.

Clearing his throat, Michael nods his head a few times. He frees his wrist from Louis’ grip only to hold onto his hand, fingers tangling together easily. He brings their hands up to his lips and presses a firm kiss to the back of Louis’ hand, “As long as you’re sure.”

Louis smiles reassuringly and nods back, “I’m sure,” he says, “I want to feel you both from the inside.”

Michael glances over at Harry, meeting his eyes seriously. They look at each other for a few minutes before Harry nods. “Alright, Louis,” he taps his hip twice.

Obeying the silent order, Louis rises up to a sitting position. They watch as Harry backs up against the headboard, his legs long and straight in front of him. He pats his thighs twice and Louis obediently crawls over on all fours, hips swaying as he moves. Michael rests a large hand against his hip, just wanting to be touching him at all times. Louis settles over Harry’s thighs, one knee on either side of him. Large hands wrap around his hips.

Harry looks over at Michael and nods toward the bedside table, “Mind grabbing the oil?”

Scrambling up, Michale quickly trips himself of his trousers and rifles through the scant contents of the table, coming back with a glass vial of oil. He hands it over and settles back into his place behind Louis, hand automatically moving to press against the small of his back.

Harry uncaps the vial and wets his fingers before reaching around Louis’ hips to prod at his hole. The glide is much easier this time around, his finger slipping easily into the heat of his body. Louis gasps and jolts forward slightly at the sudden intrusion. Biting his lip, Louis twists his fingers through Harry’s curls and reaches his other hand out toward Michael, who takes it, bringing it down to press against his growing erection.

Harry watches through heated eyes as Louis lick his lips as he looks down at Michael’s cock. He leans forward to nuzzle into his neck as he pushes a second finger in past his tight rim. Louis begins to rock back against his fingers, hips moving slightly as he tries to get them deeper inside. His cock throbs from where it’s trapped under Louis’s body. Harry darts out his tongue to lick at the salty-sweet skin beneath Louis’ ear. “Princess,” he breathes, “You’re already desperate for it, aren’t you? We haven’t even started yet and look at you.”

Louis lets out a shaky sound and nods. His hand begins to stroke up and down Michael’s length and his shoulders curl up when Harry brushes his fingers across his prostate, the base of spine singing with pleasure.

Michael moves in to lick at the other side of his neck, biting teasingly at the tendons. “You’re doing so well, baby. You look like an angel.”

“ _Ah_ ,” he exhales the shocked sound as Harry begins to press a third finger to his hole. He massages around it, skin slick and slightly chilled with oil. Louis shudders as he pushes it in, “ _Please_.”

After a few minutes, Harry pulls back and nods. He slowly takes out his fingers and wipes them against the sheets, reaching up with his hand to guide Louis’ head toward him. Connecting their lips in a heated kiss, he bites Louis’ bottom lip and pulls it slightly before letting it go and pressing their lips together once more.

On his other side, Michael pulls away from his neck to settle in behind him, legs on either side of Harry’s shins. He presses his chest to Louis’ back, the air between them burning with a passionate heat. Sweat beads at the bottom of Louis’ spine and his skin almost shimmers in the sunlight. “Ready, Lou?” At his nod, Michael kisses his shoulder as his cock presses against his entrance.

stomach moving with each shallow breath that he takes, Louis falls slightly limp as Michael’s cock begins to fill him up. He swallows around a moan as Harry reaches down to softly trail a finger down the shaft of his leaking cock. “You look fucking beautiful like this, princess,” Louis thinks he’s saying, “Wish I could see you like this all the time.”

Michael is almost shaking as his hips finally meet Louis’ ass. He tries not to wildly fuck into his heat, settling instead for biting and sucking at the skin of his shoulders. When Louis squeezes around him though, he can’t help but give a twitch of his hips and make Louis cry out. Harry wraps a supportive arm around his waist as Louis jolts forward.

“Baby,” Michael babbles against his tacky skin, “You feel so good, so tight, so warm around me. Fuck, I want to stay here forever.”

Louis blindly reaches back to twist his fingers in Michael’s hair, scratching his nails against his scalp. He leans back against his chest and tilts his head to the side to speak directly into his ear. “You’re not the only one,” He tilts his head over to the captain whose gaze is currently locked on Louis’ pretty little cock.

Rubbing his fingers into Louis’ plush side, Harry leans forward to press a kiss to the middle of Louis’ chest. The skin is covered by bandages, but he closes his eyes anyway and imagines the sweet heat of Louis’ body against his lips. He smiles into it when he feels fingers card through his curls.

The fingers suddenly twist and tighten their grip as Michael begins to fuck into Louis’s body. Harry pulls back to watch Louis’ eyes roll back in his head. His mouth drops open as he lets out a high moan, pink lips wet and swollen. “ _Michael!_ ” he gasps.

Lips curling up in a smirk, Harry reaches around Louis to prod another finger at his swollen hole. The skin is stretched and tight around Michael’s pistoning cock and Louis lets out a sharp keening sound as pushes another old finger in beside it. He exhales heavily and pulls Harry into his chest.

“Oh, fuck,” He pants, “I’m so full. I can’t, please, _Harry!_ ”

Michael’s the one that whispers into his ear, his voice rough and deep with arousal. “You can do it, baby,” he grunts, “Come on, Lou.”

Michael continues to fuck into him, cock throbbing with the need to come. Louis cries out with each thrust, the movement pushing Harry’s fingers against his prostate. There’s a small puddle of pre-come pooling on Harry’s stomach. He swipes a finger through the sticky substance before pressing a third finger to Louis’ hole. “Last one,” he promises, “Then I’ll give you what you want. Fill you up like you’ve never felt before.”

Louis whimpers but nods. After a few more minutes of slow thrusts, Harry pulls his fingers out again. Shifting a bit, he pulls away enough to take out his cock. It slaps against the toned skin of his stomach, large and dark with blood. Louis licks his lips and reaches down to pump it a few times. “You’re going to put this in me?” he asks in a wrecked voice, “When I’m already so full?”

Michael chuckles behind him. “Baby,” he says, “You don’t know full yet.”

A shiver runs down Louis’s spine and he hums. Harry watches him with dark eyes, leaning back against the mounted pillows with a relaxed posture. He nods down to his cock. “If you want it,” he reaches up to brush his thumb against Louis’ lips, hooking it in the corner of his mouth and pulling a bit. He leans in and purrs, “Put it in yourself.”

Louis taps his fingertip against the tip of Harry’s cock, watching it jump in his hand. Michael’s hips stutter to a stop and he slowly grinds against Louis. Poking his tongue out to wet Harry’s thumb, Louis rises up to his knees. Michael’s cock slips out a bit as he does, pulling a whimper from his chest. Aiming the head of Harry’s cock at his entrance, Louis begins to sink down onto it.

It catches at first, gliding off Michael’s shaft and falling back against Harry’s stomach. Louis swallows and grabs it again, holding it straight up. This time, the head presses up against his hole the rim already stretched and slick. Louis groans as he tries to relax, almost falling forward when the head pops in and presses up against his walls. “Holy fuck,” he chokes.

Michael’s hand comes around and pulls the hair back from his face, his touch gentle and at odds with the harsh thrusts pushing into his body. Louis grunts when more of Harry’s cock starts to fill him, gasping when he stops after a few more inches. Louis sees white as a spurt of come jumps from the tip of his cock and lands on his stomach.

“Baby,” Michael mouths at his neck. He’s babbling nonsense, head swimming with the pleasure of Louis’ body around him. The extra friction from the captain’s cock against his has him pushing up into Louis faster, harder, desperately chasing the high. “Fuck, didn’t even have to touch you, hm? Just a couple of big cocks in your pretty little hole are enough for you, aren’t they?”

Louis nods and Harry pulls his hips back and begins to thrust up. His hands hold Louis steady as he fucks into him. Falling forward, Louis presses his hands to Harry’s chest and curls his fingers against the muscle. He rolls his hips back against them, a thread of drool falling from his lips and landing in the pool of pre-come on Harry’s stomach. He squeezes his eyes shut against the blur of his tears. “So full,” he mumbles, “Both, both of you are so big. _Fuck— Ah!_ ”

Michael begins to lose his rhythm, hips pressing up against Louis’ ass. He wraps his fingers around Louis’ face, nails digging into his cheeks as he pulls his head around to face him. Louis lets out a surprised noise that gets muffled by Michael’s lips. The kiss is messy and wet as Michael seizes up and rolls his hips against him, come flooding Louis’ inside and coating Harry’s cock from the inside.

“So good,” he says against Louis’ mouth, “Taking it so well, baby.”

Louis licks and sucks at his bottom lip. He falls down a bit as his elbows weaken from the feeling. His entire body is thrumming with energy. He whines when Michael pulls out, his seed leaking out behind it as Louis’ hole gapes a bit around Harry’s cock.

Falling onto his back, Michael presses the back of his hand to his forehead and breathes deeply. He turns his head to watch Louis get jostled around as Harry begins fucking into him in earnest. Tightening his grip around Louis’ waist, the captain presses his heels to the mattress and rolls them over so that he hovers over Louis’ trembling form.

He raises an eyebrow as his hand trails down to cup the meat of Louis’ thighs, pulling his legs up to wrap around his trim waist. Picking up the pace again, Louis cries out as his cock drags against his prostate. Harry smirks and leans forward, pressing their foreheads together as they breathe in each other’s air. He raises a large hand and cups Louis' face, smearing the trail of tears across his cheek. Louis reaches out with a hand to tangle his fingers together with Michael’s.

Crying out, his body jumps and tightens, a rubber band in the pit of his stomach snapping with tension. Louis cries out a high-pitched “ _Harry!_ ” and comes, some of it landing on his chest.

Harry snarls as Louis’ hole constricts around his dick, he pulls back and pushes back in, the hot walls of Louis’ body milking him and pulling his pleasure from him. His hand comes up to cup Louis’ neck and he tilts the siren’s head back. Limp with pleasure, Louis moves easily under his ministrations, exposing his throat and watching through his lashes as Harry leans forward and bites into the skin where his shoulder meets his neck. The stinging pain has Louis crying out again, body tightening up again around Harry’s cock.

With one final thrust, Harry roars and comes. His hips pressed firmly against Louis’ body, he almost bites through his lip as Louis cries out at the feeling. Body buzzing with the aftershocks, Harry collapse against him, falling onto the bed without pulling out. Louis breathes heavily beneath him, one hand coming up to card through his curls. Michael shuffles closer, pushing Harry off of him as he does.

Grunting, Harry lets himself be moved, already curling up to Louis’ side. “You’re amazing,” he says against Louis’ temple.

“Thank you,” Louis whispers back groggily, toes playing with the discarded sheets at the end of the bed. Michael is already half-asleep on his other side, one hand tangled with Louis’ and the other pressed firmly against his stomach.

A small series of knocks at the door is the only warning they get before the ship’s bespectacled navigator pushes the door open and enters the room. Michael jolts awake and Harry hurriedly whips the sheets over Louis’ naked body, shouting out a loud and frantic, “Would please you wait _outside_!” 

The short man jumps at the sight that greets him, plump cheeks flushing a deep burgundy. He stutters out a rapid “E-e-excuse me!” as he runs outside and slams the door shut behind him. He continues to speak through the door, “I, I only came to tell you that we’ll be reaching port in less than a week, Captain!”

Harry rubs his hand over his forehead, dutifully ignoring Louis and Michael's giggles. “Yes, thank you very much for letting me know,” he says back. “Back to your duties.”

“R-r-right away, sir!” Short and hurried footsteps fade away as the man runs back to his post. The captain sighs and pinches his nose as the other two men continue to laugh. Louis’ normally milky skin is covered in a rosy blush, however, and Harry is only a man.

He leans down to press a kiss against the warmed, pink skin. The laughing quiets. Sighing happily, Louis smiles into the kiss Harry presses against his lips. “I love you,” Harry says.

Louis feels his smile widen and his eyes squint into happy crescent-moons. “Love you, too,” He mouths. Another giggle escapes him when Michael reaches around him to cup his neck and turn his head to look back at him. Louis melts as Michael kisses him. “Love you, too.” He says again, pressing the words into Michael’s lips.

Harry curls around his back, “When we get to Tortuga, after I show you around the island,” he whispers the words into Louis’ ear, his accent strong and lilting, “I will buy you anything you want, no matter the price.”

Louis hums into the kiss, pulling back to rest his head against Harry’s shoulder as Michael continues to press small kisses to his throat. “Anything?” He asks the question drawing out into a soft moan when Michael starts to suck a bruise into his skin. Harry nods and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling his ass back against his hardening cock. He breathes heavily into Louis’ hair.

“Anything in the world. Just say the word, princess.”


End file.
